
_., **''-.. ■•%S- /\ •..^.- V 


















' r'lV/'^j ' 




rOLUME 






OF 



AND FICTIONS J- 



BY 



JI'LIA MAYO CAHKLL 



rail), A( roKDiNci to l\w. 



COND EDITION. 



UlCI13iOIVl>t 

NASH AND WOODHOUSK 







r. •• 



4» 



AN ODD VOLUME 



OF 



FACTS AND FICTIONS, 



IN PROSE AND VERSE 



BY 



JULIA MAYO CABELL. 



'2^. ceil 



1 



RICHMOND: 



NASH AND WOODHOUSE. 
1852. 




J. W. CULLET, PRINTER. 



75)3.3'] 



GV 



PREFACE. 



We have long desired to have a Work-House, in 
order to rid our streets of the numerous vagrants that 
infest them. All acknowledge the necessity of such 
an establishment, yet no steps are taken to erect it^ 

Now, I have resolved (perhaps not wisely, but 
certainly with good intent) to attempt digging \ii 
foundation by means of this homespun volume — 
the products of the sale of which, after paying 
the costs of publication, will be appropriated 
to that purpose ; and I doubt not that the building 
ill question being thus begun, other funds will be 
cdritributed to carry up its superstructure. At 
least, let us try the experiment — it can do no harm — 
tlay, it ^hdll do good ; for if the sum accruing 
from the sale of this work, prove inadequate for 
the project in view, — instead of its being presented 
to that august body of our esteemed townsmen, 
the City Council, it will be given to the Union 
Benevolent Society for the benefit of the poor: 
Thus imitating the recent bright example of our 



worthy and gallant commandant at the Armory, 
and thereby proving m more ways than one, that 
his lights did not shine in vain. 

With this short and explanatory preamble, I 

commit my ^^odd volume'' to its fate. 

J. M. C; 



tlOME ANNALS; 



-We speak of them, we keep 



l^heir names, like light that must not fade, within our bosorti^s deepi 

Mrs. Hemans* 



MES. JEAN WOOD, OF CHELSEA. 

IVtrs. Je^n Wodd was the daughter of the Ket. John 
Mbnciire, a Scotch clergyman of the Episcopal thurchj"wh6 
in 17 — emigrated to this country, and was the first pro- 
genitor 6f the numerous Virginia families bearing that name. 
He possessed considerable talents, which hfS third daughter,- 
Mrs. Wood, inherited. She was very intellectual, and high- 
ly gifted with both poetical and musical genius. Of poetry 
she has left some beautiful speciniens, which have been' 
bflfered for the pages of our favorite '^Messenger/' where 
they will deserve a place. In itiusic, though entirely self-' 
taught, she acquired considerable skill, and played with taste 
on the guitar, piano and spinet, an instrument much in vogue 
in her day ; and so thoroughly did she make herself ac- 
Iquainted with it, that she has heeti known to employ her lii*- 
geriuity successfully, in restoring an injured one to complete 
order ^nd harniany: indeed, her energy and perseverance 
in whatever she undertook usually insured success : even 
after she was sixty, having had the misfortune to be overset 
in a carriage and break her right wrist, she quickly learned 
to Use her left hand in sewing, and to write with it not only 
eligiWjr, but well. 



6 

The early part of Mrs. Wood's life was tinged with ro- 
mance. She reciprocated at seventeen the ardent attach- 
ment of a young gentleman from Maryland, and they be- 
came engaged ; but their union being opposed by her rela* 
tions, because he was a Roman Catholic, they separated^ and 
at parting exchanged vows never to marry, so that when 
she was addressed by Gen. James Wood, several years afler- 
w^ards^ she declined his proposals, and he proceeded to the 
West to join in the w^ar against the Indians, first bequeath- 
ing (in case he should be killed) his property to the fair 
lady of his choice. Fate, however, allotted him a brighter 
destiny — for Miss M. having been led to believe that her 
former lover had broken his pledge, yielded to the persua- 
sions of a cousin with whom, since her parent's death, she* 
often resided, and consented to recall the General; and not 
until after their union did she discover that she had been cru- 
elly deceived. Hearing of her marriage, Mr. consid- 
ered himself absolved from his promise, and soon entered 
the bands of matrimony also. In their subsequent history, a 
remarkable coincidence occurs. 

Mrs, Wood had an only child, a daughter who was ex- 
tremely intelligent until four years old: she was theriat-" 
tacked with convulsions, and owing to their frequent recur- 
rence, grew up an idiot ; and Mr. — — , of Maryland,- had 
a son in a similar state ! Would it be uncharitable and su- 
perstitious to infer that these corresponding calamities were 
inflicted upon each party by Heaven, as a punishment for 

♦ 



breaking their rash, yet solemn vows ? * * * * 
* ^ To this unfortunate child she devoted herself with 
all of a mother's tenderness and zeal, and many of her 
effusions touchingly allude to thie deep affection she bore 
her, and the anxiety she suffered on her account. She lost 
her at the age of eighteen, and bewailed her death as bit- 
terly as if she had been of those whom God endows with 
the blessings of intellect and beauty. 

After this event and the decease of General Wood, who 
had been elected Governor of Virginia many years before, 
she removed from the pleasant shades of Chelsea to Rich- 
mond, where she spent the remainder of her days in works 
of charity and usefulness ; and there, aided by her intimate 
friend, Mrs; Samuel Pleasants, and by Mrs. Chapman, the 
lady of a British officer, founded a society for assisting in- 
digent widows and children. It was termed the '^Female 
Humane Association of the City of Richmond,^' under which 
title it was incorporated by the Legislature in 1811, and 
still exists and fJourishes, though its efforts and financed 
have been, since its primitive establishment, differently ap-" 
propriatcd than was originally intended, and are at this time' 
devoted solely to the benefit and maintenance oi female or- 
phan children to the entire exclusion of widows, Mrs. 
Wood was chosen President of tliis society, and untiringly 
and faithfully performed the arduous duties of that respon- 
sible station until summoned by her Maker to a happier ancf 
higher vocation in Heaven. 

% 



8 

She rested frotn her labors in the 68th year of her age, 
and reposes in the rural cemetery of "Poplar Grove/' a fami- 
ly seat about two miles distant from Richmond. 

She was brought up as an Episcopalian, but during the 
ininistry of Dr. John H. Rice she joined the Presbyterian 
church. This worthy pastor instituted a second association 
bf ladies, for the purpose of working for the poor students in 
Hampden Sidney College, and in compliment to Mrs. W.^ 
called it the " Jean Wood Society.'' 



MRS. ABIGAIL MAYO, OF BELLEVILLE. 

Another remarkai)le lady of Richmond, Virginia, was 
Mrs. Mayo, the consort of Col. John Mayo, of Belleville, 
the enterprising projector and proprietor of the lower bridge 
now spanning James River, a work that was at first gene- 
rally deemed impracticable, because of the depth and vio- 
lence of the current, but which his energy and perseverance 
hobly achieved. 

Mrs. Mayo was the intimate friend of Mrs. Wood, and, 
like her, an elegant writer, not in poetry however, but in 
prose, as numerous productions from her pen give 
proof. A journal she kept during her sojourn in Europe 
in 1829 has been found among her papers, and is ex-' 



9 

ceedingly entertaining and interesting, and beatitifully 
written. 

Mrs. Mayo's maiden name was De Hart, and her native 
place Elizabethtown, New Jersey. She was ever distin- 
guished for her personal comeliness and mental endowments; 
so much so, that in former days it was said by some of her 
companions and admirers, that ^' in her were united the 
beauty of Venus, the dignity of Juno, and the wisdom 
of Minerva !" and truly, she was a woman of rare mind, 
character and talents, and withal kind-hearted and cha- 
ritable. 

A friend has oft-times been commissioned by her to per- 
form acts of benevolence, for which she liberally supplied 
the funds, and has repeatedly known ber to send loads of 
fuel to warm and cheer the hearths and hearts of the poor 
and needy. 

It was entirely through the instrumentality and be- 
hevolent exertions of Mrs. Mayo to assist an unfortunate 
and worthy friend, that one of the first and best female 
boarding-schools ever kept in Richmond was established 
here in 1812, where many of the most distinguished ladies of 
the present day acquired their education and accomplish- 
ments. 

She departed this life| on the 2nd of October, 1843, re- 
taining to the last her mental faculties, and to an uncommon 
degree, her strength and activity. She had reached the 
advanced age of eighty-two when taken ill. A few sad 



10 

'days she suffered from pain and fever ; then her spirit took 
its flight, we trust, from Earth to Heaven ! 

Eighteen months previous to her death, the spacious ^nd 
beautiful mansion she occupied, uninsured:, and with nearly 
all of its contents, was destroyed by fire. Her deportment 
on this trying occasion created both respect and admira- 
tion, as the following extract from the newspapers ot that 
period will show : 

*^ There was no white person upon the premises when we 
Reached Belleville, except its strong-minded and wonder- 
fully-gifted proprietress, Mrs. Mayo, the widow of Colonel 
John Mayo; and mother-in-law^ of Gen. Winfield Scott 

hnd Dr. R. H. Cabell, of this city We have 

hever witnessed a more imposing spectacle of this descrip- 
tion. The immense building on fire, the large masses of 
light which were scattered in all directions, illuminating 
grove and lawn, — the large groups of people collected 
around, — the heaps of furniture piled up at the several pointsj 
formed a tout en semble of the most striking character ! . . 
, . . . But the most impressive thing of all, was the 
moral effect imparted by the presence of the venerable lady 
of the mansion, who sat in front of the burning ruins, amid 
the masses of furniture, without one tear, one lamentation or 
murmur, inspiring all who saw her with the deepest sym- 
pathy and respect for one who bore herself so firmly, so 
nobly, under so severe and sudden a calamity V^ 

Mrs. Mayo lies interred near her husband and children in 



11 

the family cemetery of Powhatan Seat, a short distance be- 
low Richmond; where two white marble obelisks adorn, 
their honored graves. 



MRS. MARY W. MOSEBY, OF CURLS. 

The next hallowed name we select from Richmond an- 
.nals of female excellence and talents, is that of Mary 
Webster Pleasants, the late consort of John G.Moseby,Esq., 
of this city. 

And who that knew her can ever forget her, or fail to 
treasure the remembrance of her virtues and genius ? 

Gentleness, piety, charity, liberality, and energy of mind 
and character, w^ere her distinguishing traits, combined with 
talent and intellectual cultivation. 

She w^as profoundly versed in all scriptural subjects, and 
what is very remarkable, had included in her studies, that 
of medicine^ regarding that branch of knowledge as a ne- 
cessary part in the education of one residing in the country. 
I have been informed, too, that her proficiency in it has exci- x 
ted the surprise of several eminent Physicians. 

For many years her ready pen supplied a number of 
Magazines with the rich harvests of its industry, and often 
were the verses and prose pieces of ^'Marcella'' and 
"M. M. W.'' (her usual signatures) lauded by the most fas- 
tidious votaries of literature : they were always filled with 



12 

pathos and religious feeling, for they were always the spon-= 
.taneous effusions of a brilliant mind and pious heart. 

Her poem of " Pocahontas/' the only one she ever _pu6- 
lished, was .eulogized by the ablest critics and reviewers. 

In her youth, Mrs. Moseby must'^have been very hand- 
some : the writer had not the happiness of knowing her, 
personally, till late in life, and even then her features were 
delicate and regular, and her countenance sweet and intelli- 
gent; but owing to protracted ill health, her complexion was 
pallid. 

It is now time to say something of her birth and parent- 
age, the particulars of which have been obtained from one 
who justly idolized her, and still deeply mourns her death ! — 
from her husband. 

She was born on the 25th of April, 1792^ and was the 
daughter of Mr. Robert Pleasants, of Curls, in Henrico 
county, whose father (also named Robert) w^ one of the 
most distinguished members of the society of ^^ Friends" in 
Virginia. 

Her mother w^as Miss Elizabeth Randolph, of Tuckahoe, 
the daughter of Col. Thomas Mann Randolph, and the sis- 
ter of Col. T. M. Randolph, (formerly Governor of Vir- 
ginia,) and of Mrs. David Meade Randolph^ Mrs. Harriet 
Hackley, and Mrs. Virginia Carey. 

At nine years of age, Mrs. Moseby was left an orphan, but 
the loss of her parents was almost suppVied by her venerable 
paternal grandfather. Being exceedingly strict i|^ his reli- 



13 

gious principles, he sent her, when old enough, to his brother^ 
(Mr. Samuel Pleasants, of Philadelphia,) with directions 
that she should be placed at Weston School, which was 
tinder the superintendance of persons of his profession of 
jfaith ; but notwithstanding these precautions, after her 
marriage she followed the dictates of her conscience arid 
embraced the Episcopalian religion. 

She resided seven years at Weston, and received every 
advantage that the most careful education could bestow ; and 
tliat the good seed was sown upon a rich and grateful soil, 
was plainly evinced by her refinement of mind and manners, 
her agreeable conversation and useful habits. 

At eighteen she bestowed her heart and hand upon Mr. 
Moseby : they were blessed with children, and for many 
years enjoyed ease, happiness and prosperity. But the evil 
day came at last ! 

Like mariy others, they were destined to prove experi- 
mentally, that *• Riches make unto themselves wings and 
flee away.'^ .' . . . Necessity demanded the sacrifice, 
and they parted with their pleasant rural residence on the 
banks of James river, and located themselves in a small 
llouse in Richmond. 

In this season of trial, the virtues of Mrs. Moseby shone 
with a lustre brighter than ever, and gained her still farther 
the esteem and love of those who witnessed her fortitude, and 
cheerful fulfilment of every duty, in the midst of reverses 
so sudden and great ! 



14 

It was in 1842 that to these were added the failure of her 
health. She was attacked with disease of the heart ; and 
although the most skillful physicians were consulted, and 
unremitting attentions paid to her case, and every exertion 
made for her restoration, all w^ere in vain. In the City 
of Richmond, on the 19th of November, 1844, her sainted 
spirit took its flight ! 

The following lines are a feeble tribute to her memory : 



Thou art gone where no ills can beset thee, 
Where friends re-iimte ne'er to part ; 

Thou art gone ! — but I ne'er will forget thee— 
Thine image is graved on my heart. 

Like the warm breath of spring-time, bestowing 
New life on the foliage of earth — 

So affection within my breast glowing, 
Sweet musings about thee, call forth. 

And I see thee in dreams, with bright spirits, 

Whose rapturous anthems arise 
In rich chorus, with saints who inherit 

Their promised rewards in the skies. 

There the arms of the Saviour enfold thee — 
Oh, the thought is a balm for all grief! 

And 'tis thus — yes, 'tis thus I behold thee 
In visions dehghtful, though brief. 



LETTERS FROM A SISTER. 

The acting personages in the following letters are ficti- 
tious characters ; but the circumstances marrated are found- 
ed on fact, and the descriptions strictly correct. The wri- 
ter visited the scenes and places described, and has merely 
changed a journal she kept at the time, into the form of a 
correspondence. 

LETTER FIRST. 

Voyage — Havre de Grace — Light Houses — Frescati Bathsy and 
Sea BatJiing — Tower of Francis the First. 

Havre de Grace, . 

My Dear Jane : 

The la^t wave of your handkerchief, when we parted 
from you at Southampton, made me feel quite sad for some 
time ; but the bustling scene around me at length diverted 
my thoughts from their gloomy course, and I emj)loyed my- 
self in observing the rapid movements of the sailors, as they 
obeyed the orders of their captain, w^ho had the voice of a 
3tentor^ and took no pains to soften it. Our fellow passen- 
gers were an elderly gentleman and his two sons, whom he 
was going to place at a boarding-school near Havre. We 
reached this celebrated port in the evening, and I am happy 

to tell you {now that it is over^) not without an adventure. 
b2 



16 

Our parents and Edgar were not very sea-sick, but alas ! 
for Sigismund and myself! we were the Jobs of the party. 
I mean as regards suffering, not patience ; for of the last 
we both stood in need. I already detest the sea, and dread 
re-crossing it. But all this time you are unacquainted with 
our adventure ; it was this. When within a few miles of 
Havre, a sudden squall arose, and for more than an hour 
our situation was truly terrifying. Fortunately the wind 
blew from the land, or we should have been wrecked on the 
" iron-bound coast/' which was very near us. The sails of 
our small vessel flapped with such violence, that the captain 
says they must have been torn to pieces if they had not been 
perfectly new. 

We have occupied ourselves since our arrival here, 
in walking about the town and riding in its neigh- 
borhood. Yesterday we visited the two light-houses on 
Cape la Heve, and ascended one of them to view from its 
roof the surrounding country, which is beautiful, and bound- 
ed on three sides by the ocean. We purchased of an old 
woman, residing in the light-house, some specimens of shell 
work ; and I chose for you a little dog, ingeniously made 
of small white shells, whose tiny black eyes shine as brightly 
as your own. 

This morning we surveyed t)ie Frescati Baths, and 
the reservoir for oysters in front of them. The baths 
are kept in elegant order, and the spacious mansion 
containing them presents a handsome exterior, I did not 



17 

relish the oysters ; they taste of copperas, like those we 
get at home — and this is natural enough, as they come out 
of the same waters. On the shore, contiguous to the ba- 
thing establishment, we witnessed the amusing spectacle of 
ladies and gentlemen in Turkish costume, struggling in the 
briny element, whose billows almost threw them down, al- 
though supported by the arms of sturdy sailors, and clinging 
to ropes suspended from stakes on the beach. Last night 
we w^nt to the theatre, and were niuch entertained by the 
performance of Lepeintre, an excellent comic actor from 
Paris. Havre is enclosed by lofty vfalh, outside of which 
are deep moats, and the borders of these are covered with a 
bright verdure. In the town there js a pleasant walk sha- 
!^ed by lime trees, and the square in front of the theatre is 
laid off in gravel walks, with seats on each side. Here the 
gentry of the city, and hosts of children, with their nurses 
to guard them, assemble every afternoon.. It is also used for 
a military band to play there at sunset. The most interest- 
ing object in Havre is an old structure called the " Tower 
of Francis the First,- ■ in which that monarch was sumptu- 
ously feasted by the [primeval] inhabitants of this place, 
ihree centuries ago. But money must have been of extreme 
value, and provisions very cheap in thai age, as it is said 
|:he banquet cost only thirty pounds ; or perhaps what then 
wa? considered a jTea.^?^, would in these days of luxury be 
thought an ordinary meal. The following anecdote will 

give you an idea of the strength of the edifice. A crazy 
b3 



18 

soldier once shut himself up in it while the garrison wer^ 
dining, and although he was strongly besieged, maintained 
possession for two hours ere he was overcome. 4^s we arQ 
to rise at five o'clock to-morrow morning, for the purpose of 
embarking for Rouen in the steamboat, I must retire to rest. 
Accept our love, and remember us affectionately to aunt 
Margaret and Albert. I hope you had a safe journey from 
Southampton, and found all well at the Lodge. 

Yours, 

LpONTINE. 



LETTER SECOND. 

The Seine — QuiUeheuf—Cand check — Curious Rile at the Villaoe 
of St. Arnold — La Mailleraie — Abbey of Jamicges — Charles 
the Seventh and Agnes Sorrel — Chateau of Jlobert le Diahle—r 
Arrival at Rouen, 

RoUEN; . 

My Dear Jane : — 

What a silly creature you are, to be sure ! — to have pre- 
ferred the shades of Morren Lodge, and the company of 
good aunt Margaret, (not to say that of somebody else, for 
fear of a blush,) to accompanying us in our present tour ! I 
am more and more enchanted as we proceed, and cannot 
help bewailing your decision, whenever we are partaking 
of any })leasnrG or amusement. 'Tis true, yo^ lell ug {hi\i 



19 

after your marriage next spring, Albert intends visiting the 
continent ; but dear me ! how many things may occur in 
the mean-while to alter your plans. Nay, the knot may 
never be tied — for its no "" wonder of wonders" now-a- 
days for lads and lasses to change their minds. And should 
you prove a ^^ constant couple," and the wedding take 
place, I doubt that Albert will be able to tear himself from 
his books and musty parchments. You know I've often told 
you, that he never would have fallen in love with your lady- 
ship, I'm convinced, had he not surprised you that eventful 
morning in papa's study, reading the life of the American 
President, Thomas Jefferson, while the rest of us were play- 
ing at battledore orir the lawn ; and this you may tell him 
if you choose. '* Wellj enough of rattle,' Leontine, (I hear 
you say,) and do let's have something interesting." So you 
shall, sister Jane ; and I hasten to give you an account of 
our voyage from Havre to this ancient capital. It was de- 
lightful! We were favored with clear skies and propitious 
breezes, and remained on deck the whole day to enjoy the 
scenery, for the banks of the Seine are highly cultivated, 
and at every turn present beautiful points of view. We gli- 
ded by many villages, and several monasteries and castles. 
Among the former I will only mention Quillebeuf and Can- 
debeck. Quillebeuf is famous for its ninety-nine pilots ; and 
as the navigation there is extremely dangerous for vessels, 
they have full employment. It is remarkable that their num- 
ber has always been ninety-nine from time immemorial. Can- 



20 

debeckis situated immediately on the bank of the river, and 
Vernet; the celebrated marine painter, pronounced the view 
from its cfuay one of the most beautiful water prospects in^ 
France. An old lady on board the steamboat told mamma 
and myself, as we were passing Candebeck, that a few miles' 
from it there is a village called St. Arnold, which dontaiiis^ 
a pool of stagnant water, that many credulous people be- 
lieve effidacious in healing cutaneous diseases, and that at a 
certain period of the year, numbers who are afflicted wiffi 
such disorders go to bathe in the pool. First, however, a' 
particular cer6m6hy must be performed, or the water will 
have no effect. Each applicant for health must steal from* 
the neighboring woods a stick, and cast it down to assist irf 
forming d pile. In the evening this is set on fire by the cu- 
rate of the village, who comes forth dressed in his sacer- 
dotal robes, and accompanied by priests chanting a hymn. 
When the sinoke begins to darken the air, a white pigeon 
is let loose f^roih the spire of the church, and the poor delu- 
ded sufferers fii^mly believe it to be the holy ghost descend- 
ing from Heaven to cure them ! Quillebeuf and Candebeck 
are both associated with historical recollections. The for- 
mer was fortified by Henry the Fourth, who considered it 
an important point, and wished to have it called Henry's- 
ville, after himself. This was not donCj however, and since 
his death the fortifications have been destroyed. It was at 
Candebeck that William the Conquerer crossed the Seine in 
1047, on his way to Arqucs, to quell a sedition among tl;e 



21 

people there, under the Count of Arques. It was governed 
by the famous Talbot during the reign of Henry the Fifth 
of England, and the inhabitants distinguished themselves by 
their bravery in a combat with the English. At one period 
it was noted for its manufactures of hats and gloves J and 
at that time no one of bon ton would wear a hat that was 
not made at Candebeck. The revocation of the edict of 
Nantz proved a death-blow to the industry of this town. 
Soon after leaving it, we passed the Chateau of La Maille- 
raie, once the residence of Mademoiselle De la Yalliere, du- 
ring her youth. The mansion is spacious, and its gardens 
and thickets looked very inviting. In 1824 the Duchess of 
Berri visited this retreat, and breakfasted in the garden ; 
and to commemorate this circumstance, a white niarble col- 
umn has been erected there. I wonder they did not sur- 
mount it with a coffee-pot. Beyond La Mailleraie the sce- 
nery is rather monotonous, but at length you approach the 
Abbey of Jamieges, (founded by St. Philibert,) and the land- 
scape becomes lovely. This noble ruin, with its numerous 
Gothic windows, was a majestic spectacle. Being situated 
on a peninsula, round which our course extended, we had a 
view of it for a considerable time ; at last, to my regret, it 
faded from our sight. Charles the Seventh built a fine villa 
in the neighborhood of Jamieges, and here the beautiful, but 
sinful and unhappy Agnes Sorrel, resided. At her death 
her heart was deposited in the Abbey, and her body carried 
{o Loches, ^vhpre it was interred whh orcat cpremony 



22 

in the choir of the collegiate church; for Agnes had been 
extremely munificent to the canons of Loches, giving them 
two thousand crowns and quantities of jewels, tapestry and 
pictures ; and these crafty ecclesiastics paid her remains all 
due respect during the life of Charles the Seventh, her royal 
lover ; but after his demise, while Louis the Eleventh was 
visiting their church, knowing that he detested Agnes, and 
designing to flatter him, they pointed out her tomb and re- 
quested permission to have it removed. '^ I consent,'^ re- 
plied the monarch, (indignant at their duplicity and ingrati- 
tude,) ^'but you must first restore the riches she lavished upon 
you." The last object I wdll now describe to you is the 
Chateau of ^' Robert le Diable/^ a wicked wretch, whose 
crimes sullied the earth, and whose spirit is believed by the 
superstitious still to haunt the places that ^vitnessed them. 
The scanty remains of his fortress are just visible on a rocky 
height on the southern bank of the Seine. Beneath the 
steep you behold a La Vacherie, a neat little country seat 
that is worthy of notice, as being the residence of Madame 
Bocage when she composed her " Columbiade.'' We landed 
at Rouen about six o'clock, and are located in a comfortable 
hotel, where papa says we will remain until we have seen 
all the curiosities of this interesting old cit)^ You will 
therefore hear from me again ere our departure. 

Yours truly, 

Leoxtine. 



23 

LETTER THIHD. 

jbescription of Rouen — Cathedral — Church of St Ouen — Picture 
Gallery and Library in the Hotel de Ville — Square of Joan of 
Arc — Theatre — Dress of the Norman Peasants^ 

Rouen, — — . 

My Dear Jane; — 

According to your request and niy propensity to scrib- 
bling, I intend tO'be very circumstantial in my details. Pray 
don't grow tired of them, or if you do, keep it a secret, and 
i!ny vanity may prevent my suspecting such a misfortune. 
Mamma gives me great credit for being so industrious with 
Aiy pen. Sigismund and' Edgar keep a journal 5 but that 
requires more exactness than I possess, so I prefer writing tl 
letter when the humor takes me. We have be^n out sight-' 
seeingy every morning and afternoon, until to-day. A brisk 
i^ain now confines us to the house, and affords me leisure 
for again conversing with you. I will commence my agree- 
able task with a description of the town. Its environs are' 
beautiful, but the interior rather gloomy — the streets ar^' 
generally so narr6w and the houses so old. It was formerly 
surrounded by walls and moats ; the walls have been pulled 
down, and the moats filled up and converted into public 
walks. At Rouen, the ancient Dukes of Normandy held their 
Courts, and it contains many vestiges of their magnificence. 
The palace of justice is a vast Gothic structure of the reign 
of Louis the Twelfth. Beneath it arc prisons, to which they 



u 

were conducting two culprits as we entered. One of its va- 
rious halls is of immense extent, and has a lingular vaulted 
6eiling, that reminds you of the hulk of a vessel reversed — 
a comparison, by the bye, that is not original with me. The 
venerable cathedral, with its lofty spire and painted win- 
dows, engaged us a long while. The spire is three hundred 
and eighty feet high, and visible seven or e^ht leagues. 
There are two towers ; one of them denomriiated the butter 
tbWer, because the expense of erecting it was defrayed with 
money that had been paid by the people for permission to 
eat butter during lent ! It contained an enormous bell, nearly 
equal in size to that at Moscow, and the founder of it is said 
to have died in an ecstacy at its completion. This wonder- 
ful bell was destroyed during the revolution. Many illus- 
trious persons are buried in the cathedral. Among them, 
Henry the Fifth of France, Richard Cour de Lion/ the 
Diike of Bedford, and the Cardinals of Amboise. The mon- 
umisnt of the two Cardinals is superb, and covered with ara- 
besque work. They are represented kneeling on its sum- 
mit. Above theni is a gilded equestrian statue of St. 
George, their patron ; below them (ranged in niches on the 
front of the tomb) are small marble figures, emblematical of 
the virtues they possessed. Opposite this mausoleum is 
another, equally remarkable. It is dedicated to the Grand 
Seneschal Breze, the husband of Diana of Poitiers, and Go- 
vernor of Rouen in the sixteenth century. Of the numer- 
ous statues that adorn this tomb; that which represents the 



25 

Seneschal as an extended corpse is the most striking, and it 
is inimitably executed. The pinched nose, tight drawn 
skin, hpllpw cheeks, and sunken eyes, give it the exact ap- 
pearance of a dead body. Over the grand altar of the 
church hangs a fine painting, by Phihp de Champagne ; the 
subject of it is the adoration of the Magi, and the light is 
ingeniously and beautifully reflected from the infant Jesus, 
(the light of the world,) upon the surrounding objects. But 
enough of the cathedral, Aliens a Saint Ouen, famous for 
its fine interior perspective, w^iich is curiously and per- 
fectly delineated by reflection on the surface of the holy 
water, in the baptismal font, near the chief portal of the 
church. St. Ouen was originally a Benedictine abbey. Its 
architect, Berneval, is buried in one of the chapels, and 
there is an improhahle tradition concerning him, viz : that 
he was hung for assassinating his apprentice, who, by ex- 
celling him in carving some trifling ornament for the ceil- 
ing, had excited his jealousy. The painted windows of 
St. Ouen are beautiful, and shed a mellow lustre over its tri- 
ple aisle, which we regretted to exchange for the glare of 
the sun without ; but time pressed, and we hastened 
view the picture gallery and public library in the Hotel 
de Ville — neither of them extensive, though worthy of 
examination. We next proceeded to the square of Joan of 
Arc, where a statue of her is erected on the spot upon 
which she w^as burnt as a sorceress in 1430. Last night 
we went to the play. The theatre is a handsome edifice. 



26 

and the ceiling exhibits the apothesis of Pierre Corneille. 
You behold him crowned by tragedy, while painting and 
sculpture vie in copying his features, and fame sounds his 
praise to the world. Apollo sheds over him his brightness, 
and time with his scythe drives away envy and other evil 
genii inimical to his glory. The ladies here dress well and 
tastefully, but the costume of the peasants is very queer. It 
is the same throughout Normandy. They wear high 
crowned muslin caps, tight boddices^ full plaited short petti- 
coats garnished with rows of black velvet, blue stockings 
clocked with red, and black sharp-toed shoes, cut low on the 
instep, and ornamented with rosettes. They always have a 
gold cross, suspended from a black ribbon encircling the 
neck, and a pair of gold earrings. But here am I continuing 
to scribble, and the weather has cleared off and the carriage 
is ordered for a drive, and I verily believe coming to the 
door. There ! papa calls me to descend. In haste, fare- 
well. 

Leontine. 



LETTER FOURTH. 



Bridge of Boats at Rouen — Ancient Custom — Old Tower and 
Town Clock — Church of St. Paid — Jugglers and Tumblers, 

RoUEN, . 



Dear .Tank : — 

^' Another letter from Rouen !" you'll exclaim ; yes, my 



II 



27 

dear sister, even so, — for papa being v^ell pleased with 
our accommodations here, and finding the town contains 
more curiosities than travellers are usually aware of, we 
Jbave thus prolonged our stay ; but to-morrow go we must, 
as our seats are engaged in the diligence for Paris. Since 
I wrote you three days ago, we have seen divers other ob- 
jects worthy of notice, though not so interesting as those I 
have described to you. To-day we saw the bridge of boats 
which connects the city with the suburbs of Saint Severe; it 
rises and falls with the tide, and is divided into compart- 
ments that can be easily separated for ships to pass through 
at any moment. The invention of this bridge is attributed 
to an Augustin monk. A handsome stone bridge is now 
building over another part of the Seine. 

Every evening at 9 o'clock w^e hear the tones of a clear 
sonorous bell, sounding what is termed the "re^rea/.'' 
This is merely the continuation of an ancient custom, 
practised during the Norman wars, when it w^as necessary 
to give a signal for those persons who might be without the 
city to enter, ere the gates were shut for the night. This 
bell is also rung on occasions of public ceremonies, festivi- 
ties, or calamities, and is called the silver bell, because, ac- 
cording to tradition, it was made of money raised from taxes. 
It hangs in the belfry of a curious old Gothic tower, whose 
archway spans one of the chief streets of Rouen, and on the 
side of which is placed the city clock, resembling the face 
of a gigantic watch. This afternoon we purpose visiting 



28 

the botanical garden, and after that.'taking a farewell drive 
in the neighborhood of the town ; there are many beautiful 
prospects to be seen from the surrounding hills. 

Yesterday Edgar and myself walked to the terrace of §t. 
Paul, a plain and antique little church, built, it is said, on the 
ruins of a temple of Adonis. From the terrace you enjoy a 
jfine view ; and near it is a mineral spring, the second in 
Rouen. Here we met wuth a number of ladies and gentle- 
men, and w^ere much diverted at the tricks of a fellow who 
mimicked the peculiarities of different nations; and when 
about to show off the English^ cried out, " Maintenant 
pour ^ Got dam ;' '' he made the most ridiculous faces you 
can imagine, and excited great mirth. It was surprising 
w^hat power of muscle and expression he possessed ; one 
moment his nose appeared turned up, his .eyes squinting and 
his mouth too small to admit a plum ; the next, you'd think 
he could take in a melon — and his physiognomy would so 
completely change, that you could scarcely believe it was 
the same person before you. Sometimes, to increase the 
effect, he put on a huge pair of spectacles and sung a 
droll song, a companion playing merrily on the violin all the 
while, and suiting the melody to the performance. After 
this came a band of tumblers, and three children tawdrily 
dressed — exhibited sundry feats on the back of a chair, and 
on the head and shoulders of a man. It was painful to be- 
hold the little creatures in such jeopardy ; and having con- 



29 

tributed our sous for their benefit, we quitted the scene. 
Adieu. 

LEON-flNfi. 



LETTER FIFTH. 

Paris — Modes of Living — Rue cle la Paix^-Place Vendome — 
Rue Castiglione — Garden of the Tuilcries — Louvre — Italian 
Boulevard — Dress of the Ladies — Soiries — Admiralty — Made- 
moiselle Mars, 

PariSj . 



Dear Jane : — 

Not a questional pray you ! about the journey from Rouen 
hither. I can only tell yoti that we chose the lower route ; 
that the prospects were lovely, and the diligence rolled rap- 
idly along the banks of the Seine ; that we stopped only to 
swallow our meals as quickly as possible, and had not time 
to examine any thing. We entered Paris by the Porte de 
Neuilly and Champs Elysees, at dusk, and witnessed the 
beautiful sight the latter presents, when illuminated by its 
numerous lamps, which, instead of being fixed on posts, were 
suspended high above our heads from ropes swung across 
the road. The resemblance of these lamps, when hghted to 
a range of brilliant stars, occasions the gate by which we 
entered to be called the ^' barriere de I'etoile." We found 
rooms ready for us, papa having written to request Mr. 



yo 

Dorval to engage a suite in the pleasantest quarter of the 
city. 

Here there are four modes of living customary among' 
visiters. First, boarding in a hotel by the day/ week, or 
month : second, boarding at a lodging house by the week^ 
month or year : third, hiring furnished apartments and eat- 
ing at a restaurateur's, or being supplied thence : fourth, 
furnishing rooms yourself, and having your ovi'-n cook. The 
first of these plans, being the least troublesome, we have 
preferred. It is, however, more expensive than either of 
the others. Our hotel is delightfully situated, and com- 
mands a view of the Italian Boulevard and of the Rue de la 
Paix, at the corner of which it stands; the latter, one of 
the widest and handsomest streets in the metropolis. From 
our windows we can also see the ^^ Place Vendome," with^ 
its superb and stately bronze column, erected by Napoleon, 
in imitation of that of Trajan at Rome. It is made of the' 
cannons taken by him at the battle of Austerlitz ; the prin- 
cipal events of that campaign are represented in a bas-relief, 
which is carried spirally around the whole shafij the figure 
of the Emperor being prominent in each compartment. His' 
statue formerly crowned the summit of the column ; but 
since his downfall it has been removed, and the vacancy is* 
now supplied by a simple banner.* 



* The statue of Napoleon lias been replaced since the last revolii-, 
tion ; the dress is the great coat and three cornered cocked hat in" 
which he is so frecjiiently rcpresended, mid he holds in his hand a' 
short telctco})e, or rather opera glass. 



3f 

Beyond the Place Vendome is the Rue Castiglione, with 
its fine shops and arcades ; and at the end of this street is 
the garden of the Tuileries, where we repair before break- 
fast every rtiorning, to enjoy its shades, and contemplate its 
Statues, flowers and fountains. In flowers it always abounds, 
for they are planted in pots concealed in the ground; and as 
soon as one set goes out of season, it is replaced by another 
in bloom. 

From eleven until four o'clock we study the pictures in 
the magnificent gallery of the Louvre, whose halls are opefi 
for the benefit of strangers and students on every day of the 
week, except Monday. On Sunday they are open to every 
body, and consequently on Monday require the operations 
of the broom and brush. The halls appropriated to sculp- 
ture are on the ground floor, and the ceilings of several are 
superbly painted. It was from the window of one of these 
apartments that Charles the Ninth fired upon his persecuted 
subjects during the massacre of St. Bartholomews, (August 
24, 1572.) 

Our usual evening resort is the Boulevard, where we 
listen to music,~and observe the motley crowds around us ;' 
and when tired, refresh ourselves with ices or lemonade ift 
a cafe. 

Dear me I how tastefully the French ladies dress ! What 
beautiful robes, and hats, and gloves, and shoes and boots, 
they wear! and how well each article corresponds with an- 
other. If they have on different colors, they take care that 



32 

they shall contrast agreeably, and not be an uncouth mix- 
ture, displeasing to the eye. In the morning their toilette 
is remarkably neat and appropriate. You'll probably find 
them, when you call, in a simple gingham dress, with pele- 
rine to suit, and a black silk apron ; their hair arranged in 
puffs, and quite unadorned. Now, is this not more rational 
than to be furbelowed, and curled, and richly clad, as if 
they were expecting company, instead of being usefully em- 
ploy ed? At entertainments and in the public promenades, they 
display their fine clothes. We have already received and re- 
turned the visits of several of the French families to whom 
we brought letters ; but much to our regret, the venerable 
Count Segurisout of town, and Baron Hottinguer, his lady 
and son, are at their country seat. The Minister of the 
Marine (Mr. Hyde de Neuville) and Madame his spouse, 
are extremely pleasing and amiable. They still have their 
regular soirees, notwithstanding the advanced season, and 
we intend to avail ourselves of their polite invitation to 
attend them. By the bye, I should tell you (what M. Dorval 
told me,) that in Paris many persons have an appointed 
evening for receiving their acquaintances, once a week, fort- 
night, or month, (as suits their convenience,) and on this 
evening they illuminate their rooms for the reception of 
their guests. The greater number of these remain only a 
half hour, and then repair to the opera, or to some other 
soiree^ as such an assembly is termed. It is usual to go to 
three or four on the same night. There is seldom any re- 



S3 

freshments offered, and the amusements are conversation 
and ecarte — sometimes billiards ; and when the soiree is so- 
cial and small, they even introduce childish plays, such as 
/^Colin-Maillard," " Le Mouchoir," " Tierce," &c. in 
which elderly people frequently join with all the vivacity of 
youth. 

Monsieur and Madame de Neuville reside in a superb 
mansion, that was formerly the " Garde raeuble," or royal 
wardrobe. It is now called the "Admiralty," and appro- 
priated to the use of the Minister of the Marine and Colp- 
jnies. On its roof is a telegraph, and its front is embellished 
with sculpture and columns, which support a portico as 
loaag as the building itself. 

A few nights since we were at the Theatre Francais, and 
€aw Mademoiselle Mars perform the part of the Duchesse 
de Guise in ^* Henri Trois." To the astonishment of every 
body she excels in this >.haracter, although it is a difficult 
one to play, and her first attempt at tragedy. Her talents 
hitherto, you knoW; have been devoted to comedy. She is 
the most lovely and youthful looking woman of her age I 
ever beheld. What do you think of her being past fifty, 
and yet not appearing as old as twenty-five? She is so 
graceful too, and then her voice is melody itself. But I must 
cease my encommms, or I shall not have space to assure you 
that I am your affectionate sister, 

Leontink. 



c2 



34 

LETTER SIXTH, 

Palais Royal — King's Library — Hotel de Ville — Mint — Palace 
oj Justice — Holy Chajpel — Flower Market, 

Pa?,IS, . 

Dear Jane ; 

What a variety of places we have visited since I des- 
patched to you my last letter. Par exemple, the Palais 
Royal, with its agreeable garden and jets d'eau, surrounded 
by arcades, under which are splendid shops and cafes, that 
are dazzling when illuminated at night ; the Royal Library, 
with its vast collection of manuscripts and engravings, and 
its cabinets of antiquities and medals — the latter considered 
to be the most complete in the world ; the Hotel de Ville, 
on the Place de Greve, where the guillotine sometimes plies 
its dreadful work ; the Exchange, with its sixty-four co* 
rinthian columns, fine hall, and superb imitations of bas-re- 
liefs, so admirably executed, that you can scarcely be con- 
vinced they are the effect of the brush instead of the chisel. 
Add to these several churches and fountains ; the Mint, 
where we witnessed the curious process of coining, and the 
'^ Palais de Justice.'^ In this vast structure of antiquity, the 
judicial courts of Paris hold their sittings. It was founded 
in the ninth century, and is termed a palace, because it was 
once the abode of the French monarchs. I remember having 
'read in some history of the magnificent entertainments they 



35 

gave )iere, in a grand hall containing statues of their race 
and a marble table of uncommon size, at which none but 
princes of the blood were allowed to feast. In 1 618 nearly 
the whole edifice was burnt, and the wonderful table and 
statues destroyed ; it was rebuilt by Desbrosses, the archi- 
tect of the Luxembourg. Besides the court rooms and many 
others above them, filled with the judiciary archives of the 
kingdom, there are long galleries which have on each side 
rows of petty shops and stalls. Beneath these galleries are 
the gloomy prisons of the conciergerie, wherein such attro- 
cities were committed during the revolution. Here we saw 
the dungeons in which Marie Antoinette and the Princess 
Elizabeth w^ere immured ; the cell in which Robespierre 
was confined ; and that of Louvel^ who assassinated the 
Duke de Berri. We were shown the prison room of the gal- 
lant Ney. The cells that inclosed the unfortunate queen 
and her sister-in-law are now converted into a small chapel, 
which communicates, by means of an arch, with another of 
larger dimensions. In the latter, the captives of the conci- 
ergerie are permitted to attend mass on the Sabbath. The 
arch is decorated with medallions of Louis the Sixteenth 
and the Princess Elizabeth, and a few lines extracted from 
his wull are inscribed on an altar in the smaller chapel. On 
the wall of this hang three pictures in oil colors ; the first 
represents Marie Antoinette taking leave of her family just 
before she was brought to the prison ; in the second, you be- 
hold her standing wrapt in meditation by her miserable 
c3 



36 

cot-bed, after the door is barred upon her ; in the third, you 
see her at confession, preparatory to ascending the scaffold. 
Melancholy themes, and well suited to the gloom of the 
place! You approach the Palace of Justice through an enor- 
mous iron gate remarkable for its workmanship and gild- 
ing. On the left of it stands an ancient building, called the 
^^ Holy Chapel/^ from its having been erected by Saint 
Louis for the reception of the sacred relics he brought with 
him from Palestine, whither he went on a crusade, in fulfilr 
ment of a vow he had made during a dangerous illness. His 
oratory is still shewn, and once served as a refuge from pop- 
ular fury to the present King Charles the Tenth, in the time 
of the revolution. The painted windows of the chapel are 
beautiful, — the colors so bright and various. Around the 
interior, instead of altars and confessionals^ are a range of 
cases, containing archives and records. By the bye, among 
those we saw in the upper galleries of the Palace of Justice, 
(which communicates with the ^^ Sainte Chapelle,'^) were 
the condemnation of Joan of Arc, and that of Jean Chatel, 
who attempted to stab Henry the Fourth, but failed, and 
having been seized was put to a dreadful death, according to 
the mandate which we read. He was stretched on the rack, 
then drawn on a sledge to the Place de Greve, his flesh torn 
with hot pincers, and his right hand cut off; finally, his 
limbs were tied to four wild horses, and thus rent asunder. 
When dead, his body was burnt, and his ashes scattered to 
the winds. The dress he wore when he attacked the King-j 



37 

ind a rope ladder he used in endeavoring to escape "while 
confined, are carefully preserved in a box, with a scull that 
was found in the possession of a famous robber, and is said 
to have served him as a cup, out of which he compelled his 
victims to drink wine, and then swear allegiance to him* 
The condemnation of Joan of Arc is replete with super- 
stition and abuse of that poor v^arrior damsel ; she is 
pronounced a sorceress, a blasphemer, a devil, &:c., and 
numerous other opprobious epithets are given to her be- 
sides. We were likewise shown the hand-writing of Fran- 
cis the First, Louis the Eleventh, and that of several others 
of the French monarchs ; and to speak the truth. I don't 
think their penmanship does them much credit. 

Returning home, we stopped at the flower market, and 
were surprised at the beauty and cheapness of the flowers. 
You may buy them growing in pots, or arranged as bouquets. 
The market is held on the Quay Dessaix, under two 
rows of trees, in the midst of which a plentiful fountain re- 
freshes the air, and affords water for the plants. Adieu. Ever 
yours, 

Leontinev 



38 

LETTER SEVENTH. 

Church of SL Roch — Pere la Chase. 

Paris, — — « 
Dear Sister : — 

Your letter (received within a few hours) gave us all 
great pleasure, and we are rejoiced to learn that folks and 
things are going ^on so well at the Lodge. What a fine 
time you and Albert have for sentimentalizing ! Make 
the best of it ; for you know October is only a few months 
off, and when it comes you'll perhaps find me at your elbow 
oftener than you anticipate. I shall have so much to talk 
about ; for believe me, although my communications are so 
long and frequent, a great deal will remain to be told when 
we reach '^ sweet home.'' 

Now, let me inform you of the strange sight we have just 
been witnessing in the Church of St. Roch ; a funeral and 
two weddings solemnizing in the same place and at the 
same moment ! To us it was shocking, and certes if / had 
been one of the votaries of hymen on the occasion, I should 
have experienced sad forbodings of evil in the connubial 
state. Really, it was sometimes difficult to hear the 
priests w^ho were performing the marriage rites, their voices 
being drowned in the loud requiem chanted over the dead. 
The coffin was strewed with white flowers, emblematical of 
the youth and maidenhood of the deceased. 



39 

We have visited Pere la Chase, and spent nearly a 
whole day in reading the inscriptions on its numerous and 
varied monuments, — many of them so magnificent ! many 
so neat and simple ! The inscriptions are generally beauti- 
ful and touching — they speak to the hearts of all ; and the 
lovely and odoriferous flowers that decorate the tombs, seem 
to rob the grave of its sadness, and shed their balmy influ- 
ence o'er the mind of the beholder. Several tombs are also 
adorned with miniatures inserted in the stone^ and portray- 
ing the once animated countenances of those who rest be- 
neath them. This romantic burying ground spreads itself 
over the side of a hill, and from the upper part you have a 
noble prospect of the city and its environs. In the four- 
teenth century it was the site of a splendid mansion, built by 
a wealthy grocer, whose name was Regnaud. Its magnifi- 
cence being incompatible with his rank, it was soon entitled 
^' Regnaud's Folly. ^' The Jesuits afterwards obtained pos- 
session of it, and gave it the name of "^ Mont Louis," be- 
cause Louis the Fourteenth when a boy witnessed from its 
summit the battle in the Faubourg St. Antoine, between the 
Frondeurs,'^ commanded by the Prince of Conde, and the 
Court Partj", under Marshal Turenne. I recollect reading 



* This party were termed frondeurs or slingers by their oppo- 
nents, in allusion to the boys who were then in the habit of throwing 
stones with slino;s in the street, and who ran away when any one 
appeared. The Sobriquet, as has frequently happened, was adopted 
by tl'iPiTi as their distinctive nppellntion. 



40 

in Voltaire^s history of that monarches reign, that during 
this bloody skirmish. Mademoiselle d'Orleans (Louis' cousin) 
sided with the Prince of Conde^ and had the cannons of the 
Bastile pointed against the royal troops. This ruined her 
forever in the opinion of the king ; and Cardinal Mazarin 
remarked, knowing her desire to marry a crowned head, 
*^ ce canon la, vientde teiir son marV^ — ^' that cannon has 
killed her husband/' Bnt I've digressed from my original 
theme, and hasten to resume it. Pere la Chase, one of the 
Jesuits, became confessor to Louis, and had entire control 
of ecclesiastical affairs. The King was very fond of him, 
and as a mark of his esteem, presented him with the estate 
of '^Mont Louis," having considerably enlarged and embel- 
lished it for his use. On the death of the holy father, it re- 
verted to his brethren, and was called after him. These wily 
priests projected there the Revocation of the edict of Nantes, 
and issued thence many a lettre de cachet, decreeing impri- 
sonment to their enemies. They retained possession of the 
place until the abolishment of their order in 1763, when it 
was sold for the benefit of their creditors, and had divers ow- 
ners, until purchased by the Prefect of the Seine, and appro- 
priated to its present purpose in 1804. There are three 
kinds of graves : first, those termed public^ in which the 
poor are gratuitously, buried ; but each body can remain 
only five years, the time supposed to be sufficient for its de- 
composition. These graves resemble immense ditches, and 
the coffins are deposited one upon nnolher, and side by side, 



41 



as close as they can lay. They are wretchedly made, and 
soon drop to pieces ; and therefore it is not uncommon, in 
burying a corpse, to see the exposed head and limbs of an- 
other ! Is'nt this horrible ? Second, temporary graves, 
wherein the dead remain undisturbed during ten years, for 
the sum of fifty francs. At the close of that period, unless 
the grave be rendered of the third kind, perpetual ^ by the 
payment of a larger portion of money, its ghastly tenant is 
removed. The oldest and most interesting sepulchre is that 
of Abelard and Heloise ; it is formed of the ruins of the 
paraclete, and covered with antique sculpture and ornaments^ 
It represents a gothic chapel, in the centre of which the 
bodies of the lovers are represented extended on a bier ; the 
whole is of gray stone. The monument of the Countess 
Demidoff, a Russian lady, we considered the richest and 
handsomest in the collection. It is composed of pure white 
marble highly polished. A part of the cemetery is appro- 
priated to the use of strangers, and a considerable space 
allowed to the Jews. The gate is always thronged w^ith 
carriages that have brought either visiters or mourners. On 
each side of the entrance are stalls, w^here wTcaths and 
bunches of flowers may be purchased. I must now conclude, 
and am sure you will dream of church-yards and hobgoblins, 
after reading this letter, from your attached 

Leontine- 



42 

LEtTER KIGiHTH. 

Hotel des Invalides — Chamher of Deputies — Pont Louis IQth—^ 
Bridges of Paris — The Pont Neuf. 

PARIS; . 

Dear Jane t 

" Let them gild the dome of the Hotel des Invalides/' 
said Napoleon to an officer, who informed him that unless 
the war with Italy was discontinued, there would certainly 
be a revolution in Paris. The mandate was issued, the 
dome covered with the shining leaf, and the minds of the 
people immediately turned from the operations of war, to 
those of the artizans employed on the cupola of the military 
asylum. Napoleon foresaw this, for well he knew the char- 
acter of his subjects. A mere trifle, having novelty to re- 
commend it, attracts their notice, engages their attention, 
and forms the theme of their conversation for a long while — 
at least, until another nev/ bubble arises. This we must 
own is a happy disposition, and better calculated to render 
a nation contented and joyous, than the sober, phlegmatic 
temperament of our Islanders. 

Thus, my dear Jane, have I managed to describe to you, 
in a very few words, the dome of the Invalids and the char- 
acter of the Parisians. Knowing you hate prolixity, I re- 
joice at my success, and for the same reason, proceed with- 
out delay to give you an account of the Hospital in ques- 



43 



tion. It is a stately edifice, and was erected by Louis 14th, 
for the reception of brave and disabled old soldiers. In ap- 
proaching it, you traverse a vast esplanade embellished with 
a fountain and bordered by a grove of lofty trees, with seats 
beneath them to tempt the lounger and rest the weary ; 
some of them were occupied by veterans whom I readily 
imagined to be telling '- how fields were won." We s-)ent 
three hours in their noble asylum, examining its spacious 
halls and dormitories, its cleanly and well-arranged kitchen 
its library and magnificent church, and its cabinet of archi- 
tecture, which consists of two large rooms, containing mo- 
dels of all the fortified towns io the kingdom. These are 
most ingeniously and beautifully executed, and give you a 
perfect idea of the places they represent. The council cham- 
ber adjoins the library, and this and two other apartments 
are decorated with the portraits of the deceased marshals of 
France : while the originals are living, their likenesses are 
deposited in the ^-'Salle des Marecheaux,'' at the Palace of 
the Tuileries. In the church we saw the mausoleum of 
Turenne and that of the famous engineer Vauban.*' The 
interior of the dome and the ceilings of six chapels surround- 
ing it are richly painted, and the tesselated pavement, in- 
terspersed with fleurs de lis and other symbols, is exceed- 
ingly beautiful. Three hundred flags, the spoils of differ- 



* He was deformed, and being once asked by the kincr what his 
^nemiesdiought of bis back.-- Sire, (be replied,) rbey bare never 



44 

exit nations, were once suspended from the dome ; but when 
the allies entered Paris, the invalid warriors tore them down 
to prevent their being retaken. 

From the Hotel des Invalides we rode to the Chamber of 
Deputies, adjoining the palace of Bourbon, and situated on 
the southern bank of the Seine, which separates it from the 
^^ Place Louis Quinze.'' It is a handsome building, adorned 
"with statues and corinthian columns, and has a pleasant gar- 
den attached to it ; the deputies hold their assemblies in a 
semi-circular hall, lighted from the top and appropriately- 
arranged. Monsieur de N was so kind and polite as 

to send us tickets, and we have been twice to hear the de- 
bates ; they were very animated, though whenever a mem- 
ber wished to speak, he was obliged to curb the spirit that 
moved him, until he could cross the floor and mount a ros- 
trum, which delay I should think is most unfavorable to 
extemporary eloquence. 

Returning, we passed over the Pont Louis Seize, and ex- 
amined the twelve colossal figures of white marble that 
.uave been recently placed on it ; they are masterly pieces 
of sculpture, but too gigantic for the size of the bridge and 
their approximation to you. There are no less than seven- 
teen bridores athwart the Seine, but not one of them can be 
compared to those of Waterloo, Blackfriar's, or Westmin- 
ster at London, cis regards strength or magnitude. The 
Pont Neuf is the largest ; it is more than sixty feiet w^ide, 
and lined on each side with stalls of every description ; (he 



45 

passengers are continually beset by the importunities of the 
shoe-black, the dog-shaver, the ballad singer, the bird sel^- 
ler, the fruiterer, the pedler, the vender of second-hand 
books, and various other petty dealers. Good night, dear 
sister. My paper and candle warn me to conclude, which I 
fear you will not regret. 

Leontine. 



LETTER NINTH. 

Arrival of Friends — Voyage from London to Calais— Route from 
Calais to Paris — Levee at the Minister s of the Marine — Exj[)ia- 
tory Chapel, 

Paris, . 

My Dear Jane : 

We were agreeably surprised the day before yesterday, 
while at dinner, by the arrival of the Danvilles, the Ameri- 
can family with whom we were so charmed at Bath last 
summer. Leonora is as lovely as ever, and delighted at the 
idea of spending the fall and winter here ; she expects, too, 
to be joined by her cousin Marcella, of whom we have heard 
her speak with such affection and admiration. She has been 
so good as to let me read her journal, and I have obtained 
her permission to transcribe a part of it for your perusal. It 



concerns the journey from Calais to Paris, and as I have 
given you a sketch of that from Havre here, this will enable 
you to compare the two routes. I dare say you will like, 
also, to read her observations about the Thames and our 
steam boats. She writes thus : 

^^ Soon after leaving London, the Thames quite astonished 
me. I had no idea it w^as so considerable a river. For many 
miles it is broad and winding, and each shore presents fine 
scenery. We had a good view of several noted towns, and 
remarked the superb hospital at Greenwich and the royal 
dockyard at Woolwich, where ships of war are made. At 
Gravesend we passed two vessels transporting convicts to 
Botany Bay, and I regretted to observe that the women 
were more numerous than the men. 

^^ The motion of the English steam boats is still more dis- 
agreeable than that of ours, but their machinery is less 
noisy. Coal being used for fuel instead of wood, the 
passengers soon look dingy in face and dress : there- 
fore one should not travel in them handsomely clad, as 
clothes are quickly ruined by the smoke and dust. There 
is no particular hour for breakfast ; each person calls for it 
when it suits his pleasure^ and has a table to himself. Din- 
ner is served at five o'clock. 

^^ We reached Calais_^about eight P. M. At the custom 
house the officers were not strict in their examination of our 
luggage ; this surprised us, for w^e had understood that they 
were always very rigid in performing this troublesome duty. 
Perhaps our being Americans w^as the cause of tl^^^''- ^-^ ^ 



ration in disturbing aur trunks and boxes, — for the I^rench 
like us almost as much as they detest the English, On 
landing, we were highly diverted at the scene on the Quay, 
The instant we left the boat we were beset with men and 
boys on every side, recommending different hotels, — and fre- 
quently cards of address were absolutely forced into our 
hands. When one overheard another advising any of us 
to go to a particular house, he would cry out, "' never do 
you mind that fellow, ma'am, (or sir,) he tells a lie; he al- 
ways tells lies!'' Or, ^^no such thing, sir; that house is full, sirj 
you can't get in, and he knows it !" Or, " that hotel is not a 
good one, sir, — indeed it is not; try mine, sir ; mine's a palace 
to iti" and fifty other such droll speeches, at which (tormented 
as we were) we could not help laughing. Sometimes they would 
even seize us by the arm and entreat us to accompany them 
to their hotel, if only to see how comfortable it was. These 
besiegers (we have since been told) receive a trifle from 
every innkeeper to whom they carry a guest, and it is their 
anxiety to obtain this fee that renders them so annoying to 
travellers. 

^'Ere leaving Calais, we had sufficient leisure to walk about 
the town and visit the church, the town hall on the ^^ place 
d'armes," and the column on the pier commemorating the 
landing of Louis 18th, on the 24th of April, 1814. It is 
a plain stone pillar, surmounted by a ball and a fleur de lis. 
In front of it is a representation in bronze of the print of the 
king's foot (or rather his shoe) upon the spot he first stepped 
on from the vessel. We found the country between Calais 



48 

&nd Paris uninteresting and generally barren^ Once 6t 
twice we had a fine view of the sea. The French villages 
appeared horribly dirty after the exquisite neatness of those 
in England. The highways presented a bustling and enter- 
taining scene ; for men and women, boys and girls, gaily 
dressed, continually passed us, carrying baskets of fruits, ri- 
ding on donkeys, or driving along pigs, sheep, cows, or 
geese. The venders of fruit would frequently jump up be- 
hind our carriage, and thrust in, at the window^, peaches, 
pears and grapes, beseeching us to buy them, and assuring 
us we had never tasted better in all our lives. Whenever we 
stopped at an inn, or ascended a hill, we were surrounded 
by dozens of paupers, begging for a sous. Sometimes they 
looked so miserable, it was impossible to refuse ; at others, 
we were fain to bestow it in order to get rid of them. Little 
urchins would also solicit a penny, and scamper after us a 
considerable distance, often springing up behind and sticking 
their heads into the coach. Upon the whole, I am contented 
with our journey hither; for if it was not picturesque, it w^as 
highly amusing. 

^' The principal towns we have passed through, are Bou- 
logne, Abbeville, and Beauvais. The first is said to have 
been founded by Julius Csesar ; and Le Sage, the author of 
Gil Bias, died there in 1747 ; the house in which he ex- 
pired, is yet shewn as a curiosity. Within a mile of 
Boulogne is a corinthian column, which Bonaparte began 
to erect as a memento of his victories over the English ; he 



49 

left it unfinished, and Louis 18th had it completed for his own 
honor and glory." 

Thus far, dear sister, I have copied from Leonora's diary; 
now for something of my own. Last night we were at M. 
de Neuville's grand levee ; he has one every week^ and be- 
ing exceedingly popular, his rooms are generally crowded. 
We saw, there, many distinguished characters ; among thenn. 
Monsieur de Chateaubriand, whose travels have afforded us 
so much entertainment and instruction, and General Saldan- 
ha, the brave Portuguese. He has a commanding figure 
and face, and wears a pair of tremendous mustachios, 
which are so frightful and so fashionable ! To-day we devo- 
ted a portion of our time to the Expiatory Chapel, a beau- 
tiful building, constructed in honor of Louis 16th and Marie 
Antoinette ; it covers the spot w-here their remains were 
first interred ; for since the restoration of the Bourbons, 
these have been conveyed to the royal vault at St. Denis. 
The entrance and interior of the chapel are very handsome; 
the light is admitted from the cupola, beneath which are 
fifteen niches, destined to hold statues of the chief victims of 
the revolution. There is a neat altar, and the will of Louis 
and that of his sistei* (the Princess Elizabeth) are engraved 
in golden letters, on two white marble tablets. A subter- 
ranean apartment contains another altar; and in front of this, 
a black marble slab, bearing an inscription, still designates 
the original grave of the royal and unfortunate pair. In 
the court of the chapel, many of their faithful Swiss guards 



50 

are interred. The testament of Louis, wherein he expresses 
good will towards his enemies^ and forgiveness of his unloyal 
and cruel subjects, is very touching. A peasant girl was 
reading it when we entered, and her cheeks were bedewed 
with tears. 

I regret ta inform you that mama has had a return of her 
consumptive cough, and is compelled to drink asses' milk. 
She is plentifully supplied with it every morning, by an old 
man who drives a flock of female asses about the streets, 
and milks them before the door of each customer. The 
tingling of a little bell, which he carries, gives notice of his 
arrival whenever he stops. Farewell : kind greetings to 
those around you,— and above all to yourself. From 

Leontine/ 



LETTER TENTH. 

The Luxembourg — The Ohservalory — Notre Dame — The Panthe- 
on — Madame Malihran — M'lle Sontag, 

Paris, . 

Dearest Jane : 

On inquiring the day of the month, I am quite surprised 
to find that my pen has been idle nearly a week. I will now 
try to make up for lost time, by describing to you some of 
the places we have visited in the interim ; and the Luxem- 
bourg being first on the list, will commence with that. It 
is one of the m-ost magnificent palaces in Paris. The exterior 



ol 

is highly embellished, and, to use the words of an English 
tourist, " the architecture throughout is distinguished by 
its bold and masculine character, and by the regularity and 
beauty of its proportions.'' This palace was built by order 
of Mary de Medici, the widow of Henry 4th ; it afterwards 
became the property of some of the French nobility, but 
was finally restored to the crown. During the revolu- 
tion, it was used as a prison ; the Senate afterwards oc- 
cupied it ; at present it contains the Chamber of Peers, — 
and its galleries are filled with the chef d'oeuvres of mo- 
dern artists, whose productions are not admitted into the 
Louvre until their death. Of course, the collection 
of paintings here is much smaller than at the Louvre; 
but the pictures are all on the most interesting subjects, an^ 
are seen to greater advantage, the light being let in from 
above instead of from the sides of the rooms, as is the case at 
the Louvre. There are some choice pieces of sculpture ; one 
of them (by Charles Dupaty) represents the Nymph Biblis 
changing to a fountain. It is both a singular and ingenious 
production. The Chamber of Peers, like that of the Deputies, 
is semi-circular in shape ; it is hung with blue velvet ; and the 
marble effigies of several orators, legislators and warriors of 
old, grace its walls. From the ceiling, which is painted, hangs 
a splendid chandelier. I will only mention one or two more of 
the apartments — the Salle du Trone,^ as being particularly 
rich, and the billiard room, which is tapestried with white vel- 

* Hall of the Throne. 



52 

vet, with various views of Rome beautifully delineated on it 
in water colors. On the ground floor is the chapel — this is 
very plain ; near it is the gorgeous chamber of Marie de Medi- 
cis;, — the ceiling, walls and shutters of which are covered 
with gilding and arabesque paintings. The principal staircase 
of the palace is remarkably grand and magnificent ; there are 
forty-eight steps, each twenty feet in length, and formed of 
a single stone; on the right and left of it, are statues and 
trophies. The garden of the Luxembourg is shady and plea- 
sant, and has the usual embellishments of gods and goddesses 
amid fountains and flowers. As you are fond of the mar- 
vellous, I will tell you a tradition I have just read respect- 
ing it. 

There once stood a castle on the site of this garden, w^hich, 
remaining along while uninhabited, was said to be haunted 
by frightful demons and apparitions ; the whole neighbor- 
hood was nightly disturbed by them ; no person would ven* 
ture out after sunset, and finally the inhabitants were com- 
pelled, for the sake of rest, to seek other dwellings. In this 
state of things, the monks of a Carthusian monastery at 
Gentilly (who were doubtless at the bottom of the mystery) 
promised to drive away the malicious spirits by exorcism, if 
St. Louis would grant them the castle and its appurtenan- 
ces. Their request was complied with ; and they so faith- 
fully performed their part, that peace was soon restored, and 
the chateau converted into a convent, which existed about 
six hundred voars. 



53 

From the Luxembourg we proceeded through a long 
sunny avenue, to the observatory. On the left of the road, 
x\rnaud, our valet de place, pointed out the spot upon which 
Marshal Ney was shot. '- Regardez, Mesdames ! ce fut la 
(pointing with his finger) I'endroit ou le brave Marechal 
Ney fut massacre — Jetais present et il me semble que je le 
vois tout sang'lant dans ce moment/' said he, shuddering. 
We paused to look at the once bloody spot, now verdant 
with grass and so sadly interesting. The observatory may 
be considered a wonderful building, for neither iron or wood 
have been used in its construction; it is entirely of stone, 
each piece being ingeniously fitted to another. Four astro- 
nomers pursue their avocations here, and have the advan- 
tage of a good library and apparatus ; there are, likewise, 
an anemometer for indicating the course of the wind, and a 
pluviometer for measuring the quantity of rain that falls at 
Paris. A geometrical staircase leads to the entrance of some 
spacious caverns where experiments in congelation are made, 
and these caverns communicate with subterranean galleries 
that w^ere originally quarries, and extend a considerable dis- 
tance under the city, containing beautiful stalacities, formed 
by water oozing through the rocks. We did not see them, 
for they cannot be entered without a special guide, and a 
written permission from certain persons appointed by gov- 
ernment to superintend and inspect them. 

But my stars ! I have exhausted nearly all my paper, and 

have yet a dozen places to describe ! Well, well, von must 

d2 



54 

be contented with an account of two of the most important; 
and by the time I have finished w^ith them, I shall have to 
squeeze in my name, no doubt. And now let me decide 
which of the various objects w^e have examined, I ought to 
regard as chief. Why, the mother church of France '^ No- 
tre Dame/' and the Pantheon, to be sure ! The first is the 
most ancient religious structure in the city, and is pro- 
nounced to be one of the handsomest in the kingdom. Be- 
ing built in the Gothic ages, its architecture is according to 
the fashion of those times, very singular and bold. The in- 
terior of the building corresponds with the outside in curious 
carving and designs; the choir and the stalls surrounding it 
are covered with grotesque sculpture. There are no less 
than thirty chapels, and all of them contain pictures, but 
are generally very indifferent. There are several fine ones 
around the choir — among them the ^'Visitation," by Jean 
Jouvenet ; this painting w^as executed entirely with his left 
haind, after he lost the use of his right by a paralytic stroke. 
Behind the altar, is a gooil piece of sculpture by Coustou ; 
the subject is the ^' descent from the cross." In the vestry 
room, w^e were shown some extraordinary relics, — such as 
part of the crown of thorns that was worn by our Saviour, 
and a bit of his cross ! We also saw the regalia of Charle- 
magne, and the splendid robes given to the priests of this 
cathedral by Bonaparte at the period of his coronation, 
upon which occasion they w^ere used ; they are embroidered 
in the richest manner with gold and silver, and amazingly 



55 

heavy. Numerous sacred festivals are celebrated at Notre 
Dame in the course of the year ; and in August there is to be 
a procession in fulfilment of a vow made by Louis XIII. 
This is done on the 15th of that month annually, and the 
royal family always join in it. We shall go to see it, of 
course ; and how I wish youj aunt Margaret and Albert 
were of our party. 

The Pantheon, or Church of Saint Genevieve, is a mag- 
nificent structure, and its dome is the most striking object 
that presents itself as you approach Paris. The interior of 
it is beatifully painted, the artist having chosen for his sub- 
ject the apotheosis of Louis' XVI and his family. When the 
work was finished, the King went to see it, and after looking 
at it attentively for a quarter of an hour, he turned to the 
painter Gros, who was anxiously awaiting his opinion, and 
said to him, ^^Eh bien Monsieur le 5aron votre ouvrage 
est tres bien fait !'' thus recompensing his talents, by be- 
stowing on him a title of nobility. Saint Genevieve, the 
patron Saint of Paris, is buried in the Pantheon, and her 
tomb is always surrounded by lighted tapers, the votive 
offerings of those who come to demand her intercession for 
pardon or blessing. In the vaults beneath the church, many 
distinguished men are interred. Indeed, it was to receive 
the ashes of such, that the Pantheon was designed ; and 
Louis XV, who was the liberal encourager of science and 
art, was the founder of it. 

Contrary to my expectations, 1 find I've yet space enough 



56 

to inform you that we have been twice to the Italian Opera, 
to hear Madame Malibran and Mademoiselle Sontag. The 
former seems really adored here. At her benefit, many gen- 
tlemen voluntarily paid one hundred francs for a ticket, in- 
stead of twenty, the actual price. She sings enchantingly 
and acts with great spirit ; so does her rival. Mademoiselle 
Sontag. In fact, I know not to which of these nightingales I 
prefer listening. Adieu. 

Leontine. 



LETTER ELEVENTH. 

Malmaison, Tomh of the Ex-Hmj)ress Josephine'— Engine for con- 
veying water to Versailles and St, Cloud — >S^ Germain en Lay e — 
Nanterre — St, Generieve, 

Paris, . . 

Although quite fatigued, I cannot retire to rest ere I have 
rendered ray dear sister an account of to-day^s excursion to 
St. Germain and to Malmaison, the favorite residence of the 
late Ex-Empress Josephine. We took an early breakfast, 
and sat off by ten o'clock ; the Danvilles in their carriage, 
accompanied by Sigismund, and we in a remise, or, as it is 
termed in England, a glass coach. We soon alighted at 
Malmaison, it being only two leagues from Paris, and spent 
more than an hour in walking over the house and grounds, 
<\nd thinking of poor Josephine. A great deal of the fur- 



r 



57 

niture yet remains as she left it ; even her music books are 
kept as she arranged them. The room she occupied as her 
chamber, is exceedingly beautiful. It is circular, lined with 
cloth of crimson and gold, and surrounded by mirrors insert- 
ed into the walls and doors. The bed is supported by golden 
swans, and the coverlid and curtains are of silver lama. In 
the library we saw the writing table and inkstand of Na- 
poleon. The first bears evident marks of his penknife ; 
which, while meditating, he used to strike into the wood. 
The domestic who conducted us through the apartments, 
spokeof the Ex-Empress with great affection ; and so did 
the gardener, a West India negro, whose ebony visage was 
a novel spectacle to us. They said she w^as beloved by all 
the household and neighborhood, for her affability and kind- 
ness. The green house is filled with gay and choice flow- 
ers and shrubs ; and it is melancholy to reflect that these, 
the frailest productions of nature, have outlived their lovely 
mistress, and still blossom and flourish and shed their frag- 
rance around, while she, like a shadow, has passed away ! 
After following awhile the windings of a stream that meanders 
through the garden, we found ourselves at the threshold of 
a pretty Httle temple dedicated to Cupid. The mischiev- 
ous urchin himself, treading upon roses, is placed in the cen- 
tre, and on the pedestral beneath him, this vindictive coup- 
let is inscribed : 

A 

II Pest, le flit, oil le doit etre, 
Qui que cc soit, voici ton Maitre. 



58 

We quitted the shades of Mahnaison with regret, and pro-' 
ceeded to the neighboring village of Ruelle to visit the 
tomb of Josephine in the church there, where her ashes re- 
pose. The monument is of white marble, and was erected 
to her memory by Eugene Beauharnais, her son. On its 
summit she is represented clad in a folding robe with a dia- 
dem on her head, and kneeling before an open breviary. It 
is a handsome tribute of filial love. 

Near Ruelle is a chateau that once belonged to Cardinal 
Richelieu, and since then to Marshal Massena, whose widow 
still inhabits it.*^ Being informed that the family were ab- 
sent, and that it was customary for strangers to visit this 
sojourn of those distinguished men, we drove there ; and, 
alighting from our carriages, were demanding permission of 
a person in the yard to see the mansion and its grounds, 
when a lady suddenly made her appearance, and we had the 
mortification to find that we w^ere intruding on the privacy 
of Madame Massena herself. We immediately explained 
our mistake, and would have come away, but she insisted on 
our entering, and was so polite that we could not refuse. 
The chateau is very plain, and furnished with correspond- 
ing simplicity. In front of it is a limpid sheet of w^ater, 
and behind it a pleasant garden, where we wandered awhile, 
and then took leave, gratified with our adventure, awkward 
as it was at the commencement. 

*This lady is since dead. She died soon afterwards. 



o9 

Retracing our steps a short distance, we continuea our 
ride to St. Germain en Laye, and observed on our left a stu- 
pendous steam engine, which, on inquiry, we found is used 
for supplying the fountains of Versailles and St. Cloud with 
water from the Seine, and has succeeded the famous machine 
of Marly. This machine had become so decayed in some 
parts before its removal, that it occasioned the death of sever- 
al persons who were examining its construction, and heed- 
lessly stepped on an old board, which, giving way, they were 
precipitated in the river and drowned, or crushed to death 
by the wheels. St. Germaine en Laye derives it name from 
the extensive forests adjoining it, which is considered the 
finest in France, and has ever been the favorite hunting 
ground of the French monarchs. While partaking of the 
pleasures of the chase, they inhabited the spacious palace 
that still exists, and is at present a barracks for soldiers. 
That abject king, James the Second, resided in it twelve 
years, supported by the munificence of Louis le Grand, and 
finally closed his earthly career in this noble retreat. He 
was buried in the adjoining church, and his heart is enshrined 
in a paltry looking altar, before which a lamp is constantly 
burning, and upon which is an inscription informing the 
reader why it was erected. But what renders the palace at 
St. Germain peculiarly interesting, is its having been the 
residence of the Duchess de la Vallicre ; and in the ceiling 
of one of the rooms appropriated to her use there is a trap 
door, through which it is supposed her enamored sovereign 



60 

descended when he visited her clandestinely. On the left 
of the castle is a terrace one mile in length, and bordering 
an acclivity that overhangs the Seine, and is highly cultiva- 
ted in vineyards and fruit trees. This terrace is much fre- 
quented by persons who resort there for the purpose of en- 
joying fresh air and a fine prospect. Some go in carriages, 
but the usual mode of conveyance is by a donkey, and this 
we chose. The streets of the town are wide, and the houses 
generally large ; which might be expected, as court festivi- 
ties were so often held here ; and now^-a-days, many of the 
Parisian gentry pass the summer months here. 

We finished the day by dining at a neat auberge, (inn,) 
with a garden teeming with flowers just in front of our par- 
lor. Returning home, we passed through the village of 
Nanterre, (the birth-place of St. Genevieve,) and stopped an 
instant to buy some of the cakes for which it is renowned ; 
they are merely buns, and we did not think them deserving 
of their fame. Nanterre beer and Nanterre sausages are 
also held in great estimation ; but of these we did not taste, 
being quite satisfied with our trial of the cakes. I imagine 
you know the history of St. Genevieve ; though lest you 
should not, I will tell you, in a few w^ords, that she was a 
shepherdess, whose virtues and piety caused her to be can- 
onized after her death, and made the patron saint of Paris. 
There is a lovely picture of her at the Louvre, by Pierre 
Guerin, representing her turning a spindle while guarding 
her flock. Good night, Leontine. 



61 

LETTER TWELFTH. 

Lajayeite and his Family — Sevres Manufactory — Palace of St* 
Cloud — Madame de Genlis — Savoyards — Ballet of Mars and 
Venus. 

Paris, . 

Dear Jane : 

We have formed acquaintance with some delightful cha*- 
racters since I wrote to you a few days since. We have 
been introduced to the good and brave General Lafayette 
and his family. On Wednesday he came with his son, Mr. 
George W. Lafayette, to see Mr. Danville, and the latter pre- 
sented us to them. The print you have seen of this distin^ 
guished patriarch is a correct likeness ; and his manners 
are as benevolent as his countenance. He has a soiree on 
every Wednesday night, and we have gladly ac(jppted the 
kind and pressing invitation he gave each of us to attend 
them. The ladies of the family, consisting of his daughters, 
his grand-daughters, and daughter-in-law, Madame G. La- 
fayette, have also called, and we find them very amiable 
and pleasing. 

We have likewise had an introduction to Madame de 
Genlis, for which we are indebted to Mrs. Danville ; who, 
rightly conjecturing it would be gratifying to us to know 
this celebrated lady, and being well acquainted with her, 
requested her permission to present us to her. This was 
readily granted, and this morning appointed for the visit. 
Accordingly, after an early ride to the Sevres manufactory 



02 

of porcelain and the Palace of St. Cloud, the most splendid 
of all the King's habitations, we repaired to her residence. 
On arriving^ we were conducted up stairs by a tidy-looking 
femme de chamhre and ushered through a small bed-room, 
plainly furnished, into an apartment that, from the variety 
of its contents, might be compared to Noah's ark. Besides 
the usual appendages of a parlor, it contained a piano, a 
harp, a guitar, a folding screen, and several tables loaded 
with books, papers, baskets and boxes, &c. 

We found the venerable authoress seated in an arm chair, 
near the window. Her regular and delicate features and 
fair^skin still indicate former beauty. Her nose is aquiline, 
and her eyes clear blue ; as they are weak, she is obliged to 
wear a green shade, to protect them from the light, but has 
never yet%und it necessary to use spectacles : this is aston- 
ishing, for she will be eighty-two on the 25th of next Janu- 
ary I She wore a black silk gown, and a simple muslin cap ; 
and when Mrs. Danville introduced us, she offered her hand 
to each, and, as soon as we were seated, entered into conver- 
sation with a degree of vivacity that quite surprised us ; we 
were still more so, at her vanity. She talked a great deal 
about her own works, and in their praise ! We asked her 
if she continued to play on the harp. ^^ Oh oui ! tres bien !" 
she replied. ^^ And on the piano and guitar, Madame V^ 
^^ Oh, oui, tout, toutj tres bien!'' She told us she often practis- 
ed on the harp and composed in prose at the same time : and 
that while reciting verses aloud in a distinct voice, and with 



63 

strict attention to punctuation and emphasis, she could 'read 
a page from any author, and then recount to you, in regular 
rotation, every idea therein expressed ; and this proved, 
she said, that the mind is capable of two operations at once. 
Papa observed that Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden, prov- 
ed it a century ago, when he played chess while dic- 
tating letters to different persons. She did not notice 
this remark, but proceeded to extol a novel she wrote some 
years since, entitled '^ Alfred the Great." She considers it 
one of her best productions, and gave it to a physician who 
attended her during a dangerous illness, and declined being- 
paid for his services. She said she thought she could not com- 
pliment him more, than by making him a present of her work; 
that he seemed highly delighted with it, and declared he 
would have it published immediately, but that, much to her 
regret, he had not kept his promise. 

Alfred is her favorite hero, and she expressed her wonder 
that he is not often made the subject of a romance. She 
informed us that she always retires' to bed at half past ten 
o'clock, and rises at seven, and is careful to eat very mode- 
rately. Her faculties continue perfect, and she knows fifty- 
two trades ; such as sewing, knitting, spinning, embroider- 
ing, making baskets, weaving purses, (fcc. (fcc. We saw on 
the chimney-piece a snuff box that Mademoiselle d'Orleans, 
her ci-deva7it pupil; had sent to her. On the lid she had 
painted a harp entwined with a garland of flowers, and be- 
low it this sentence was wriiten : " Cast votre ouvragc/ ' 



64 

Having sat with her two hours, we took leave, and had 
quitted the room, when she called us back to show" us with 
what ease she could rise from her chair without resting her 
hands on the arms of it to aid herself, as old people are 
commonly obliged to do. She has invited us to call on her 
whenever w^e can, and was so polite as to say she felt quite 
flattered by our visit. 

On reaching home, we found Mr. Danville and Leonora 
much diverted at the exploit of a monkey that had climbed 
in at the window, and ere they perceived it, twitched from 
Leonora's hand a bunch of raisins she was eating. It was 
the property of a little Savoyard, who had taught it a vari- 
ety of tricks, in order to gain a few sous by their exhibition. 
The Boulevard abounds with these little wanderers, and 
their marmosets. 

This evening we are going to a fete at the Tivoli Garden; 
the New Tivoli as it is called ; the old one (which I am told 
was far handsomer) has been converted into ground for build- 
ing. We have seen the Ballet of Mars and Venus, at the 
grand opera ; nothing can be more beautiful and splendid 
than it is ! Leaving it for your imagination to fancy, I sub- 
scribe myself your affectionate 

Leontine. 



65 

LETTER THIRTEENTH. 

Fete at Tivoli — The Catacomhs — Cemetery of Montmartre — Abat- 
toirs — Lady Morgan — Mrs. Opie — A Quaker Meeting, 

Paris, . 

Dear Jane : — • 

We were much entertained at Tivoli. The garden was 
brightly illuminated, and all sorts of amusements went on ; 
and what a variety of these the French have, and with what 
zest they partake of them! We did our part very well too. 
We swung, we rode on wooden horses, sailed in ships, looked 
at a cosmorama, witnessed a phantasmagoria, rope-dancing 
and fire-works, a play performed by puppets, and some 
metamorphoses of little paste-board figureS; that were quite 
wonderful; for instance : —a tiny lion was changed, as if 
by magic, into a cupid driving a car drawn by swans, a 
young lady into a basket of flowers, a butterfly into a beau, 
&c. &c. These transfigurations, I think, must be produced 
in the following manner : Two different objects are painted 
on a bit of pasteboard, one on the back and the other on the 
front of it ; the pasteboard is then folded into the shape of 
one of them, and threads, too fine to be visible at a mode- 
rate distance, attached to it ; after exhibiting the first figure 
a sufficient time, the threads are pulled and the pasteboard 
adroitly turned round and thrown open, thus displaying the 
second figure, to the form of which its edges are trimmed. 
As no person was visible, the threads wore undoubtedly 



66 

passed through the scenes of the miniature stage into the 
hand of the skilful operator, — for skilful he or she was who 
conducted the business. When tired of strolling, w^e entered 
a fine cafe, situated in the centre of the garden, and re- 
freshed ourselves with ice creams; afterwards, attracted by 
the sound of music, we repaired to an open space, wdiere an 
orchestra was erected and a band of musicians were playing 
quadrilles for a party of beaux and belles, w^ho danced away 
merrily, not on the tnrf^ but in the sand ; they were, how- 
ever, so inspired by the tones of violins and clarionets, that 
they moved along as if on a board floor. 

You will wonder, perhaps, how w^e sailed in ships w^ithout 
the aid of wind or tide ! I will tell you. Two poles, with 
a little ship suspended by a rope from each end, were placed 
crosswise on a pivot, and turned as rapidly as you chose, 
carrying you round and round in the air, with an undulating 
motion, not dissimilar to that of a vessel at sea, and so un- 
])leasant to our feelings that we soon dis embarked » This 
diversion is termed " les Espagnolettes.'' The wooden 
horses are arranged in like manner, except that they 
are firmly fixed on the ends of the poles, and conse- 
quently, in riding on them, you do not experience the sick- 
ening, waving motion. The machine for swinging is de- 
nominated a " Balancoir.'^ This consists of a couple of 
beams placed athwart each other, with chairs attached to 
their ends, w^hich are thrown alternately up and down. 
Several parties, as they glided round on the wooden horses. 



67 

amused themselves by trying to pass a stick through a large 
ring, which was held towards them by a woman mounted 
on a bench. Whenever a ring w^as caught and borne off, 
it was instantly replaced by another; until one of the coai- 
petitors had ohtainedfive, and thus won the game. 

I must now change my theme, and inform you of our disap- 
pointment as respects seeing the catacombs. They are closed 
at present by order of the government — I believe on account 
of the danger there is in visiting them. We have been to the 
* cemetery of Montmartre/' or " Field of Repose," as it is 
likewise styled. It is of much older date than ^' Pere la 
Ghase,^' but not so extensive, nor does it contain such hand- 
some monuments ; there are, however, some shady, melan- 
choly dells and moss-covered tombs, that render it peculiar- 
ly interesting. Vcstris, the celebrated dancer, and Very, the 
chief of restaurateurs, are buried there. 

From the cemetery we proceeded to the ^' Abattoir," or 
^^ Slaughter-house of Montmartre ;" an establishment of 
this kind is erected in every department of the city. With- 
in them the butchers exercise their sanguinary functions*, and 
the expense of them is defrayed by taxes on the animals that 
are killed. They are kept in the neatest order, and com- 
posed of numerous buildings, each of which is appropriated 
to a particular branch of the business. In one, the poor ani- 
mals are knocked in the head ; and there is a receptacle 
for the blood, which trickles into it through furrows made in 
the floor : in a second, the carcase is skinned ; in a third, 



. 68 

quartered: in a fourth, the entrails are separated and cleansed', 
in a fifth, the fat is boiled in an immense kettle. There are, 
besides, spacious stables, where the unconscious victims are 
sheltered, and amply supplied with food and straw, while 
awaiting their fate. It made me quite sad to behold them 
eating and reposing so calmly, and then to think of their 
Woody destiny! The " Abattoirs" are liberally watered 
and often washed, and therefore no disagreeable odour is 
'perceptible about them. I wish our butchers would folr 
low the example of their French brethren as regards these 
places ! 

We had the gratification of meeting with Lady Morgan 
last night at Madame B — — 's. Mamma had a great deal 
of conversation with her, and found her extremely affable 
and agreeable. You know we were told she was ugly — we 
do not think her so, but she certainly dresses too girlishly, 
rouges too highly, and seems too desirous of admiration. 
This cannot be said of Mrs. Opie, to whom we were also 
introduced. She was as plain in her attire as a dark grey 
silk gown, and a white muslin kerchief and cap, could make 
her. In her manners she is unaffected; in her conversation, 
animated and intelligent. Her countenance is open and 
expressive of her lively mind. The moment we beheld her, 
we recognized her as a lady we had seen at a Quaker meet- 
ing, which we attended, from motives of curiosity, on Sun- 
day. A Quaker meeting in Paris! you will exclaim. 
Even so, my dear, for what is lliere on the face of the earth 



69 

(that depends not on soil or climate) which may not be found 
in this bustling capitol? The meeting was held in a house 
in the Champs Elysees, belonging to a Quaker family with 
whom Mr J), was acquainted, and who gave him a cheerful 
permission to bring wuth him, whenever he w^ished it, any 
friends desirous of going there. We were shewn into a 
neat parlor, where about twenty persons w^ere sitting in 
solemn silence, and for nearly an hour not abound was heard, 
save the occasional sneezes of an old lady who had a violent 
cold in her head. At length, however, the spirit moved a 
dark-eyed gentleman, and he gave us a tolerable sermon. I 
conclude with love from all of us to yourself, aunt M. and Al- 
bert, and to our relations and friends in the vicinity of Morven 
Lodge. I have not always room for affectionate messages, 
or be assured they would always be inserted. 

Leontine. 



LETTER FOURTEENTH. 

Soiree at General Lafayette'^ s — Benjamin Constant — Messrs. Per- 
rier, Lafitte and Ternaux, S^c, — " Conservatory of Arts and 
Trades^^ — Dioraraa — Georania — Ndorania — " Royal Printing 
Office*^ — Manufactory of Plate Glass — Hospital of the Quinze 
Vingts — Castle of Vincennes — Fountain of the Elephant — 
Franconi's Circus — The Duchess of BerrVs family, 

Paris, . 

Dear Jane : — 

Another busy week of pleasure and amusement has glided 

by since you have heard from us, and two evenings of it have 



70 

been spent at two delightful soirees. The first at Madame 
de N 's ; the second, at the galhnt old General Lafa- 
yette^ s, in the rue d- Anjou ; where he has a suite of small 
and neat apartments, illuminated for the reception of his ex- 
pected guests on every Tuesday evening. We made our 
debut there about 9 o'clock, and found them crowded. 
Among the throng there were many celebrated and interest- 
ing personages, for the worthy and enlightened of all na- 
tions seem ever ready to do homage to the virtuous patri- 
arch of Lagrange. At his soirees the greatest ease prevails — 
the refreshments are simple and plentiful ; and in compli- 
ment to the Americans and English, tea is always served, a 
custom not practised among the French. We again saw 
Sir Charles and Lady Morgan and Mrs. Opie, with whom, 
by the bye, we have exchanged visits. Then there was the 
orator, Benjamin Constant; a pale, thin man, with light blue 
eyes and snowy hair, looking as if he were far on his pass- 
age to the next world. He was environed by a crowd of 
gentlemen, to whom he was speaking very earnestly with a 
great deal of gesture. Not far from him we observed other 
stars of the Chamber of Deputies, and these were Mes- 
sieurs Casimir Perrier, Lafitte and Ternaux, whose coun- 
tenances bespeak their noble minds. Monsieur Ternaux 
has introduced here, and carries on the manufacture of cash- 
mere shawls, and they not only equal those of India in tints 
and texture, but surpass them in the beauty and richness of 
the borders. To him also is attributed the discovery of the 



71 

art of stamping patterns in relief on cloth table covers, &c. 
In the next room, we saw Mr. Cooper, the American no- 
velistj and his lady — the two Miss P— --— 's, cousins of Lord 
Byron, and Mr. and Mrs. — — . She is the daughter of 
Gen. Bertrand, and a beautiful creature she is. The lovely 
Countess d'A— — was sitting near her. She is the sister 
of Madame George W. Lafayette, and is an intelligent and 
fascinating woman. She called here yesterday, with Madame 
Lasteyrie and her daughters. 

It is now time to speak of some of the curiosities of Paris, 
to which we have recently been devoting our nsornings. 1 
believe the " conservatory of arts and trades^^ stands firs! 
on the list. It is also termed the ^'museum of industry,'^ 
and is a collection of all sorts of machines and models, pat- 
terns and specimens of things that French genius and labor 
have produced ; for the government obliges every French- 
man to deposit here a sample or model of whatever he im- 
proves or invents, and to accompany it with an account of its 
manufacture or construction. Besides several halls exhibiting 
machines and models, there are others filled with specimens 
of porcelain, glass, stone ware, lace, silks, ribbons, tapestry, 
colored and stamped paper, scissors, knives, fans, watches, 
clocks, lamps, and a thousand other articles. One of the 
halls contains a number of miniature buildings, represent- 
ing sundry manufactories. They are open in front, and dis- 
play in different apartments the various processes of each 
business, and the implements required in it. not omitting the 



73 

most trifling tool. Another hall contains a library of 10,000 
volumes, written in almost every language, and treating on 
subjects connected with the purport of the establishment — 
and professors of geometry and natural philosophy give lec- 
tures there to such pupils as are recommended by the minis- 
ter of the interior. Would it not be shameful if the French 
nation did not rapidly progress in the arts and sciences, 
vvhen the government is so liberal in encouraging them, by 
affording those persons who possess talents every advan- 
tage gratuitously, so that the poor may rise as well as the 
rich, if blessed with abilities? Among the patterns of ta- 
pestry is one, concerning which a droll story is related, viz : 
that Vaucanson, a skilful mechanic, being offended with the 
inhabitants of Lyons for undervaluing some looms he had 
invented, tied an ass to one of them, and made him execute 
the piece of embroidery from which this specimen was cuty 
and which excelled any they had ever done. 

We have also visited the Diorama, the Georama and the 
Neorama^ the royal printing office, the manufactory of plate 
glass, and the hospital of the ^' Quinze Vingts.'' A diorama 
you have seen. A georama is a panoramic representation 
of the earth, with its divisions of land and water ; the spec- 
tator standing in the centre. A neorama is a painting, so 
ingeniously designed and arranged as to produce the illusion 
of your being within whatever building it represents. The 
one we saw is a picture of the interior of St. Peter's at Rome, 
and M. Dorval, who has been there, says it is an exact copy. 



4 



73 

The royal printing office is an establishment of great 
magnitude. There is a vast collection of types and several 
hundred presses. We were informed that Pope Pius VII 
visited this office during his sojourn in Paris, and that while 
he was there the Lord's prayer was printed in no less than 
150 languages and presented to him. 

At the plate glass manufactory, we beheld mirrors of 
wonderful magnitude. The plates are cast at Cherbourg 
and at St. Gobin, (a castle in the department of Aisne,) and 
sent here to be quick-silvered and polished. Eight hun- 
dred workmen are constantly employed in the business. 
The French are indebted to the great Colbert for this 
establishment ; prior to its foundation, plate glass could only 
be had by sending for it to Venice. 

Having satisfied our curiosity here, we proceeded to the 
hospital of the ^' Quinze Vingts/^ founded by St. Louis in 
1220 for the maintenance of 300 blind — a larger number is 
now admitted. It was customary in the age of St. Louis 
to count by twenties; and there being 15 twenties in 300, this 
institution derived its appellation from having that number 
of pensioners. We were pleased with the neatness and 
comfort that reigned, and arrived there just in time to hear 
a class of the blind sing and play ; for those wlio evince a 
talent for music are instructed in it. The women were the 
vocalists; and the men performed on various instruments. 
Even the leader was sightless ! They kept time very well, 
and we enjoyed their concert exceedingly, though the dis- 



74 

torted faces some made while singing were horrible. They 
are taught a variety of trades, and not only reading, but the 
art of printing; and we saw a man arrange the types and 
print several words with both skill and quickness. The 
types were extremely large and made of wood, and no ink 
was used in the operation; but the letters pressed on the pa- 
per, so as to leave the traces of them perceptible to the 
slightest touch. 

On Wednesday we went to the castle ofVincennes, a 
gothic fortress, about three miles from the city. It con- 
tains the state prisotis and an armory. A note to the com- 
mandant: from Mr. Warden, the American Ex-Consul, and 
a kind friend of the Danvilles, gained us admission, and we 
spent two hours in examining the castle, within whose gloomy 
turrets, nobles and monarchs have sighed in captivity. The 
celebrated Mirabeau was a prisoner there during four years, 
and there wrote his letters between Gabriel and Sophie. 
The duke d'Engliien was shot in a moat of this castle : the 
spot where the execution took p'ace is designated by a wil- 
low tree and a black column, bearing this inscription, ''Here 
he fell." In the chapel is a handsome mausoleum enclosing 
his ashes. Returning from Vincennes, we stopped on the 
Place dela Basi'de (once occupied by that terrific build- 
ing) to view the model of the fountain of the Elephant. It 
is of plaster, and 72 feet high. A tower on the animaFs 
back is to serve as a reservoir for the water which is to 
flow from the proboscis, and one of the legs is to contain the 



75 

stair-case leading to the tower. The whole mass is to be of 
bronze, but it is doubtful if this grand fountain will ever be 
made ; it was one of Napoleon's gigantic designs, which ad- 
versity and death prevented his accomplishing. Last night 
w^e witnessed the w^onder of an Elephant acting a part in a 
play at the Cirque Olympique, a theatre of the same descrip- 
tion as that of Ashley's in London. The house was crowd- 
ed almost to suffocation, and the docile and astonishing crea- 
ture excited universal admiration by her performance. She 
is called ^^ Mam'selle Dyjeck/' is a native of the island of 
Ceylon, and wms purchased from somiC Indian jugglers by 
Monsieur Huguet, her present owner. She is so attached to 
him, that she shews evident distress if he is long absent from 
her, and extreme delight when he returns. If he be fa- 
tigued or indisposed, it is said that she even undresses him, 
puts him to bed, and watches by him while he rests. Tra- 
vellers, I know, are expected to exaggerate^ bnt I assure you 
lam not availing myself of the privilege in the present in- 
stance. The play w^as entitled "FElephant du roi de Siam," 
and was written expressly to exhibit the address and sagaci- 
ty of M'lle Dyjeck, who really acted throughout as if she 
were a human being. At the close of the performance, the 
audience vociferated for her re-appearance; and after a few 
moments elapsed, the curtain rose, and the royal lady came 
forth, proudly tossing her trunk. She advanced to the edge 
of the stage and made three courtesies, retreating all the 
while; and looking round on the spectators as she rose, until 



76 

she had sufficiently receded, she walked off* amidst a roar of 
applause. It was quite an inspiring scene. The Duchess 
of Berri and her suite were present. 

Apropos — Madame F. lately gave us a most interesting 
account of her Highness' children, the little Duke of Bor- 
deaux and M'lle Louise. She says they are both remarka- 
bly amiable ; and le petit Due holds a levee daily, is dressed 
en militaire^ and assumes all the airs of a grown gentleman. 
He is so proud of his sword, that the severest penalty his 
tutor can inflict, when he misbehaves, is to deprive him of it. 
He is a pretty boy: we have ofien met him taking an airing 
in his coach and four surrounded by gens d'armes ; for the 
Bourbons are so unpopular, that for fear of his sharing the 
fate of his father, he is always strongly guarded whenever 
he appears in public. He pays dearly for his lineage, poor 
little fellow ! and I never see him without thinking sorrow- 
fully of the probability of his perishing by the ruthless hand 
of an assassin. But mercy ! what a packet. Have patience, 

dearest ! with your 

Leontine. 



LETTER FIFTEENTH. 

Foundling Hospital — Hotel Carnavalet — Count de Segur, 

Paris, . 

My Dear Jane : — 

This morning, we visited the Foundling Hospital. Be- 
ing told we should go there very early to behold the empty- 



77 

ing of the baskets in which the babes are deposited at the 
gate daring the night, we hastened there ere seven o'clock ; 
but we had been misinformed, and were disappointed in our 
wishes. The infants are carried there at all hours ; none, 
however, were received during our visit. 

We were conducted through the numerous wards, and saw 
many forsaken little creatures — a distressing sight, indeed ! 
Then to behold the sufferings of such as were diseased ! 
Some of them lying on hard beds, with a bright light from 
opposite windows torturing their eyes, which were generally 
inflamed from being thus exposed. Some of the nurses, too, 
were exceedingly rough. For instance, in an apartment 
attached to the sick wards, four or five women were occu- 
pied in dosing and feeding several babies : one of them 
asked another, who stood by a table, to hand her a spoon ; 
instead of handing it, she threw it, and so carelessly, that the 
poor child received a blow on the cheek. I could have 
boxed the vixen ! Each infant is swathed, and wears on 
its wrist a piece of pewter, telling the hour, the day of the 
month, and the year, of its reception at the hospital ; this 
enables a parent, who may desire to reclaim a child, to find 
it. About six thousand children are annually received here, 
and frequently as many as twenty in the course of a day. A 
considerable number are sent into the country to be nursed ; 
and during our stay, a half a dozen carts drove off, filled 
with peasant women and their helpless charges. The des- 

tinv of those we thought enviable, when compared with that 

f2 



78 

of those who remained. At two years of age, the children 

are removed to another hospital, and there instructed unril 

old enough to be put to some trade. 

After breakfost, we visited a place of a more pleasing 

description ; this w^as the Hotel de Carnavalet, formerly the 

residence of Madame de Sevigne. It is now inhabited by a 

Monsieur de P , an eminent engineer, with whom we 

have become acquainted, and who kindly invited us there, 

to see the very chamber and cabinet occupied by that lady, 

when she penned those charming letters to the Countess de 

Grignan. The window of the cabinet overlooks a small 

garden^ in which is a flourishing yew tree, that was planted 

by Madame de Sevigne herself. As I viewed it, and thought 

of her who reared it, Lord Byron's beautiful lines on the cj^- 

press came forcibly to my mind. 

*' Dark tree ! still sad when other's grief is fled, 
The only constant mourner o'er the dead." 

The charming old Count de Segur has returned to town, 
and we have paid him our respects at his residence in the 
Rue Duphot. He was here yesterday, and invited us to dine 
with him en famille to-day; we are going, and I shall 
close my letter with an account of the party, when we come 
back. At presentj I must abandon the w- riting desk for the 
toilet table. 

Eleven at night. We reached home a half an hour since, 
and having changed my dress for a robe de chambre, behold 
me quite at my ease, and again in possession of the pen, 



79 

We spent our hours delightfully at the Count's ! On 
alighting there, we were for some minutes sole tenants of 
the parlor, and thus had an opportunity of examining a 
Ijeautiful portrait that decorates the wall of the room, and 
which, we afterwards learned, is that of the Countess de 
Segur, It was painted duiing her youth, and if the re^ 
semblance be a good one^she must have been a lovely crcas 
ture ! Our observations were interrupted by the entrance 
of the Count from his library, adjoining the parlor — ^and 
our circle was soon increased by the addition of several 
French gentlemen, to whom he introduced us, but I quite 
forget their names. One of them had recently been in 
Greece, and described a horrible scene of carnage he wit- 
nessed there. In the evening, the Count had many visiters, 
this beins^ the time he prefers his friends to call on him. 
Among those who came in, was the authoress of '' Adele de 
Senange," that interesting novel we read together last win- 
ter. You may depend I heard the name of Madame de 
Susa announced with great satisfaction. She entered, and 
we beheld a plain looking woman, apparently about fifty 
years old. Then there was Monsieur de Marbois, w^ho 
wrote the history of Louisiana, one of the United States; 
and Count Philip de Segur, author of the " Russian Cam- 
paign," who is considered the ablest military historian of 
the age. I am now so sleepy, I can write no more ; so bid 
you, in the name of all of us, a fond adieu. 

Leontine. 



80 

LETTER SIXTEENTH. 

Saint Denis — Montmorency — the Rendezvous — the Hermitage — 
Englden — Mass at ike Tuileries' Chapel — the Bourbons,, 

Paris, . 

Dear Jane i 

Marcella Erisford has arrived, accompanied by her father, 
who returns to Soissons to-morrow. He has been residing 
there eleven months, in order to settle some business, rela- 
tive to a legacy left him by an intimate friend ; in the 
spring he expects to re-embark for Philadelphiaj his native 
city. He resembles his sister, Mrs. Danville, and appears 
equally amiable and desirous of contributing to the happi- 
ness of those around him. We shall sincerely regret his 
departure. Marcella is quite a beauty, with her glowing 
cheeks, hazel eyes and pearly teeth, although her features 
are by no means regular. She is less lovely than Leonora, 
but just as intelligent and accomplished ; so you see I have 
two delightful companions to console me (if it were possi- 
ble) for your absence. Our brother Edgar is, I think, des- 
perately smitten with Marcella ; certes, when she is by, he 
has neither eyes or ears for anybody or anything else. 

Now for our peregrinations, The weather being remark- 
ably fine on Tuesday, and the carriages at the door by 9 
o'clock, according to order^ we proceeded to Montmorency 
and the Abbey of St. Denis. Oh, how your pensive spirit 
w^ill luxuriate in wandering through the solemn aisles and 
caverns of this ^^ hoary pile/' among the sepulchres of its 



81 

mighty dead ! You are aware that, during the revolution, 
this asylum of deceased royalty, was invaded by a barbar- 
ous populace, who dragged the corpses from their graves, 
loaded them with indignities, and cast them into ditches and 
other places of filth. It is related, that the corpse of the 
brave Louis XIV, when thus profaned, raised its arm, as if 
to strike the miscreant who dared the deed, while that of 
the good Henry Quatre (which was found uninjured by 
time) smiled benignantly on his ungrateful subjects ! The 
tombs have since been restored by Napoleon, who intended 
for himself, and his descendants, the vault which is appro- 
priated to the Bourbons. It is secured by two massive 
bronze gates, w^hich he had made to close upon his own 
ashes, that now repose under a simple stone on the b rren 
island of St. Helena ! So changes the glory of this world 
and its mighty ones ! 

The Abbey of Saint Denis was originally a plain chapel, 
erected by a pious and Vv'ealthy lady named Catnlla, to 
shelter the remains of that martyr (St. Denis) and his com- 
panions, after their execution. The generosity and care of 
various monarchs, have transferred the humble chapel into 
the present majestic cathedral. The relics of St. Denis are 
enclosed in a splendid shrine, the gift of Louis XVIII ; and 
the sumptuous altar in front of this, with its enormous gold 
candlesticks, was given to the church by Bonaparte^ after 
his marriage with the Empress Marie Louise, on which oc- 
casion it w^as first erected in the Louvre, where the cere- 



mony was performed. In the side isles of St. Denis, are 
several superb monuments, in memory of Francis I, Henry 
II, and Henry III, and their Queens. The antique sepul- 
chres of Dagobert, and his spouse Natilde, are near the 
door, and that of Dagobeit is most curiously carved. In 
one of the vaults we saw the' stone coffin of King Pepin ; it 
is open and empty, and when struck on the side, sounds like 
metal. Near the mausoleum of Francis the I, stands the 
mimic bier of Louis XVIII, canopied and richly decorated 
with funeral ornaments. It will remain until succeeded by 
that of Charles X, for such is the custom of France. What 
gave rise to it I knovv' not ; but we may reasonably suppose 
that it was intended, like the monitor of Philip of Macedon, 
to remind the reigning monarch of his mortality. 

At Montmorency we had fine sport, riding about on don- 
keys to the different points of vievv'^ that merit notice for 
their beauty. The little animal upon which Mr, Erisford 
rode, was at first extremely refractory, and the trouble he 
had to force it along excited our mirth ; then my saddle girth 
broke, and this was another source of merriment. After 
riding over the valley, we alighted at the hunting seat of 
the unhappy father of the murdered Duke d'Fnghien, the 
present Prince of Conde, who is said to be yet overwhelm- 
ed with affliction at the untimely and cruel end of his noble 
son. The place is called the '^ Rendezvous ;'^ it is shady 
and pleasant — the house a plain stone building : we did not 
enter it, but partook of some cool milk beneath the trees, 



83 

in front of the door. We purchased it of- the game-keeper 
and his wife, who reside there. 

Retracing our path, (and the little donkeys, I assure you, 
trotted back riiucli faster than they went^) w^e stopped at the 
Hermitage. This is the most interesting object to be seen at 
Montmorency , and indeed the chief attraction to that 
spot — although circunistances induced us to defer our visit 
to it till the last. It is a quarter of a mile from the village, 
and w^as the residence of Jean Jacques Rousseau, and after- 
wards of Andrew Gretry, the musical composer, whose 
family still occupy it. They are so obliging as to allow 
strangers to visit this rural retreat of those celebrated men, 
and have arranged, in a small apartment, various articles that 
were owned and used by them, and that are consequently 
interesting to the spectator ; for instance, the bedstead and 
table of Rousseau; the cup and saucer of Gretry ; his comb 
and spectacles^ and the antique little spinet upon which he 
tried his compositions. A flower garden adjoins the man- 
sion, and there we saw a rose bush that w^as plant(,'d by 
Jean Jacques, and the stone bench upon which he used to 
sit while writing his '•' Hcloise.'' From the bay tree that 
shades it, I procured a leaf for your herbarium. A rivulet 
meanders through the garden, and empties into a small lake, 
near which is the bust of Gretry, supported by a column, 
with an inscription in ^ilt letters. Rou-seau's bust occupies 
a niche in the wall, and is covered w^ith a glass to protect 
it from the pencils of scribblers, which have disfigured it 
considerably. 



84 

Bidding adieu to the Hermitage, we returned to the 
"White Horse," an excellent inn we had selected in the 
tow^n, and, having recruited ourselves w^ith a hearty dinner, 
resumed our seats upon the donkeys, and repaired to the 
village of d'Enghien, (a mile distant,) to see its neat and 
commodious sulphur baths, and the pretty lake of St. Gra- 
tien, on the border of which it stands. In the centre of the 
w^ater is a restaurant, to which, if you choose, you are con- 
veyed in a boat; but it was so late, that our parents would 
not consent to make this aquatic excursion, and we there- 
fore returned to Montmorency, and thence to Paris. A 
bright moon lighted us home, where we arrived about 11 
o'clock, pleased with our day's adventures, and so sleepy 
we could scarcely reach our chambers w^ithout falling into a 
slumber on the way. 

On Sunday, Mr. Dorval brought us six tickets of admis- 
sion to the Chapel of the Tuileries, whei-e high mass is per- 
formed every Sabbath, while the king is in the city. Not a 
moment was to be lost, so we hastened to array ourselves 
for the occasion, as full dress is required, if you sit in the 
gallery with the royal family, and our billets were such as 
to admit us there. Marcella, Leonora and myself had just 
purchased new bonnets, and these we wore. Their's are 
of straw colored crape, ornamented with blond and bunches 
of lilacs, and are very becoming ; mine is of pink, and de- 
corated with blond and white hyacynths. Our party, con- 
sisting of mamma, papa, Edgar, and our three ladyships, 



85 

was soon ready and at the palace. The chapel was crowd* 
ed, but we found no difficulty in obtaining seats— for, on. 
presenting our tickets, the captain of the guards handed us 
to them, and the throng yielded to him without hesitation. 
The music was very fine, and we had a close view of the 
Bourbons and their suite. They were sumptuously clad, 
and the King and Duke and Duchess of Angouleme seem- 
ed very devout. The Duchess has a most melancholy ex- 
pression of countenance; owing, perhaps, to the sad vicis- 
situdes of her youth. Neither she, her spouse or uncle are 
popular. The Dutchess de Berri is exceedingly so, and is 
considered one of the mos,t charitable ladies in the kingdom. 
She is extremely fair, has light hair and a pleasing face. 
She is not sufficiently dignified, I think, and is a terrible 
fidget ; during service, she was continually a.djusting her 
tucker, necklace, or sleeve. It is reported, that when the 
omnibuses, or circulating carriages of the Boulevards, were 
first introduced, she made a bet with the king that she would 
ride in one of them, and actually did so, in disguise ! I am 
summoned to the parlor to receive visiters— so kiss my hand 

to you. 

Leontine. 

P. S. Our guests proved to be General and Mr. George 
Washington Lafayette. They came to take leave of us ere 
their departure for La Grange. The Chamber of Deputies 
havinoulissolved,they goto the country to-morrow, where the 
rest of the family have already established themselves. We 



86 

have been so pressingly invited to pay them a visit, that we 
have determined to do so, and anticipate great pleasure and 
gfatification from spending a day or two in the midst of this 
charming and highly respected family. Again adieu. L. 



LETTER SEYENTEETH. 

The Garden of Plants — T7ie Camel Leapard — The Library^ 
Museum^ and Cahinet of Anatomy — Manufactory of Gohelin 
Tapestry. 

PARIS; . 

Dear Jane : 

I do not wonder that you are surprised at my not having 
yet described to you the ^- Royal Garden of Plants/' The 
fact is, we have been thrice disappointed in our arrange- 
ments to go there, but at last have accomplished our pro- 
ject, and devoted both Tuesday and Wednesday to the in- 
vestigation of this famed spot, and we have seen nothing in 
Paris that has interested us more. It is of great extent, 
and affords the visiter as much information as amusement 

It was founded by Jean de Brosses, the physician of Louis 

* 

XIII, and much improved by the exertions of BufFon, the 
naturalist. It contains various enclosures, some of which 
are appropriated to botany, and display every plant, flower 
and shrub, native and foreign, that can be made to grow 
there. Each is labelled^ and bears its botanical name ; and 
there are spacious hot-houses for such as require shelter and 



87 

extreme care. We remarked here some fine specimens of 

the bread tree and sugar cane. Other enclosures are filled 

with all sorts of culinary vegetables. There are, besides, 

nurseries of fruit trees and samples o! different kinds of 

fences, hedges and ditches, and of various soils and manures. 

The enclosures are separated by wide gravel walks, 

**Bouiided by trees, with seats beneath the shade, 
For talking age and whispering lovers made." 

In the centre of the garden is an artificial hill, crowned with 
a temple, from whieh you enjoy a view of the city, and may 
aid your sight with a spy glass, by paying a trifle to a man 
who owns it and generally sits there, for the purpose of 
hiring it, and indicating to strangers the names of the pub- 
lic edifices visible in the prospective. On the way to the 
temple, you pass under a huge and towering cedar of Leba- 
non, which De Jussieu, the botanist, planted more than 
eighty years ago. This superb tree was considerably in- 
jured during the revolution ; and bad it not been for the 
remonstrances and influence of Humboldt, the traveller, the 
whole garden would probably be now in a ruinous condi- 
tion — "for when the allies were in Paris, it was owing to his 
exertions that the Prussians were prevented encamping 
ther<Ei. 

The menagerie exhibits the greatest variety of animals. 
The ferocious are kept in iron cages ; those that are gentle, 
in enclosures and habitations suitable to their propensities 
and natures, and embellished with such trees and shrubs as 



83 

are found in their native dimes. Goats, for instance, are 
furnished with artificial acclivities for climbing, and bears 
with dens and rugged posts. The populace often thow bis- 
cuit^ and fruit to the bears, in order to witness their endea- 
vors to catch them ; but this is dangerous diversion, for in 
doing this, a boy was not sufficiently alert in his movements, 
and, ere he withdrew his arm, had it severely lacerated by the 
eager animal. On another occasion, a careless nurse, while 
amusing herself in a similar manner, let a child fall in, which 
was instantly devoured! Among the gentlest and most 
curious of the quadrupeds, is th e giraff, or camel leopard, 
which was brought from Africa about two years ago, and 
threw all Paris into commotion. Thousands visited him 
daily, and belts, reticules, gloves, kerchiefs, and even cakes 
and blanc manges, were decorated with his image. It is said 
that he possesses both sagacity and sensibility, to prove 
which the following anecdote is related of him. As his 
keepers were bringing him to Paris, they were joined by a 
man on horseback, who continued to bear them company for 
several miles, until he came to another road. The girafF, 
which had manifested o-reat delio-ht when the traveller first 
appeared, then evinced deep distress, and even shed tears ! 
Upon inquiry, it was found that the traveller's horse and the 
girafi w^ere from the same part of Africa, and probably old 
acquaintances. This is a marvellous story, I must confess ; 
nevertheless, many persons believe it. I will now tell you 
another less incredible, and which shews to what perfection 



89 

the flower makers here carry their art. The girafF is very 
fond of rose leaves ; and not long since, seeing a bunch of 
artificial roses in a lady's bonnet, and thinking thera natural, 
he seized hojcj of them, and pulled with such force, that he 
soon had possession of hat and all. It must have been a 
ludicrous scene. He is so delicate, that strict attention is 
obliged to be paid to his food and lodging. The first con- 
sists of delicate vegetables, and the heat of the last is re- 
gulated by a thermometer ; and his African attendant sleeps 
near to guard him and supply his wants. Leaving the 
quadrupeds, we proceeded to look at the birds, which are 
also admirably arranged. The water fowls have their pools 
an,d lakes — the ostrich its sands, and so on. 

I have now detailed what we saw on Tuesday. On 
Wednesday, we returned to the garden, and examined the 
Library, the Museum of Natural History, and the Cabinet 
of Comparative Anatomy, where, for the first time in my 
life, I beheld the human form, divested of its skin and flesh, 
and changed to a machine ot dried bones and sinews, and 
bloodless veins I The sight made me shudder, and I felt 
relieved when we came away. 

Not far from the Garden of Plants, at the corner of the 
Rue Mouffetarde, is the celebrated manufactory of Gobelin 
Tapestry, which derives its name from a dyer who first own- 
ed the establishment, and employed himself in coloring 
worsteds. Colbert, the patriotic champion of the arts and 

sciences, during his ministry, occasioned the rise and per- 

g2 



90 

fection of it in the following manner. He engaged work- 
men to weave tapestry in imitation of that of Flanders. 
The attempt succeeded, and such has been the proficiency 
of those who have since carried on the work^ that their pro- 
ductions are now equal to any others of the kind. You 
may imagine what care and expense is required in the busi^ 
ness, when I inform you that a. single piece of tapestry fre- 
quently demands two'years' labor to finish it, and has cost 
almost three hundred pounds sterling! 

The clock is striking two. and I must prepare for a ride in 
the Bois de Boulogne. It being a dehghtful afternoon, we 
shall no doubt f^nd it alive with carriages, pedestrians and 
equestrians. Those who repair there in coaches, usually 
drive to a pleasant spot, and then descend to walk to and 
fro in the shade, for air and exercise, until the approach of 
the dinner hour, or some other engagement calls them else-r 

where. Farewelh 

Leontine, 



LETTER EIGHTEENTH. 



Ceremony of taJring the Veil — Palace of the IVarm Baths^ a Ro- 
man Ruin. 

Paris, . 



Oh! Jane, how we wished for you yesterday ! Early in 

the morning we received a note from Madame F , saying 

that if the ladies of our party would like to witness the 



91 

ceremony of '^ taking the veil," and would repair to her 
house by nine o'clock, she would accompany them to a 
neighboring coavent, where it was to be performed about the 
hour of ten. The Abbess being her friend and cousin, she 
had obtained her consent to our attending on the occasion, 
in case we wished it. We wished it, you may be sure, and 
her kindness was eagerly and thankfully accepted. On 
reaching the convent, its portals were opened by two of the 

sisterhood; who greeted Madame F very cordially, 

made their curtsies to us, and then conducted us to the gal- 
lery of a small chapel, the main body of which was filled 
with nuns clad in black, and seated on rows of benches, each 
side of the aisle. In the centre of it, upon a damask chair, 
sat a young lady richly dressed. She wore a yellow silk 
frock trimmed with lace, white satin shoes, long white kid 
gloves, and ornaments of pearl. A wreath of orange blos- 
soms mingled and contrasted with her dark hair, and were 

partly concealed by a flowing veil. Madame F related 

her history, and, to our surprise, we learned she Vv^as an 
English girl who had been placed in the convent at an early 
age to be educated. As might have been expected, associa- 
ting so constantly and closely with Catholics from child- 
hood, she became one herself; and when her parents came 
over to France for the purpose of carrying her home, they 
found her resolved on becoming a nun. Having tried in 
vain to dissuade her from it, they at length yielded to her 
entreaties, and were even present when she took the vows; 



92 

jand as they did not appear distressed on the occasion, I supr 
.pose they had finally become reconciled to their bereave- 
ment. But to proceed to the ceremony. 

Long prayers were said, incense scattered, and a fine 
hymn chanted — the novice kneeling down before a table 
.covered with a crimson cloth, and reclining her head upon 
ft, in hurpble submission to that Divine Power to whom she 
was dedicating her heart and days ! When the music ceased, 
the Abbess advanced, and, taking her hand, led her out 
through a side door ; and while they were absent, a nun 
distributed among the sisterhood a number of large wax 
candles, which she afterwards illumined. The Abbess now 
re-entered with her charge, and prayers and incense were 
again offered, a second hymn sung, and the novice had her 
hair, or a portion of it, cut off; she then prostrated herself 
before the altar, and a black pall was cast over her, to sig- 
nify she was dead to the world. On rising, she retired a 
second time v;ith the Superior, and in a few minutes re-ap- 
peared, clad in the habiliments of the cloister, and went 
round the chapel to receive the kiss of congratulation and 
welcome fro^i each of the community ; after which the 
lights were extinguished, and every one departed^ leaving 
her to solitude, meditation and prayer, until the vesper bell 
should tell the hour for rejoining her. How awful I felt 
while a spectator of the solemn scene; and how strange, is 
it not ? that reflecting beings, who know the fickleness of 
human nature — that ^^ nature's mighty law is change'^— can 



93 

tenture thus to bind themselves for life to stay in one limited 
space, and pursue one unvaried mode of existence ! I hope 
and think I love religion truly ; but I am sure, if I were a 
saint upon earthy I should never hide my light in a monas- 
tery. 

I ought to mention, that except the father and brothers 
of the new nuiij no gentlemen were admitted to the cere- 
mony ; and I ought also to state that she was very pretty. 
Leonora says that, notwithstanding the scene and place, she 
was constantly imagining the interference of some brave 
youth, to save the fair creature from her fate, by rushing in 
and bearing her off hy force ; but alas ! the age of chivalry 
is long past, and now-a-days a hero in love would be thought 
a prodigy and hard to find, unless, perhaps, he was sought 
for in a certain old-fashioned fabric in the vicinity of Mor- 
ven Lodge. There, peradventure, such an extraor dinar 1/ 
personage mxight he discovered. 

From the convent vre drove to what is called the "Palace 
of the Warm Baths." This is a relic of Roman antiquity. 
In itj the Roman emperors, and after their dominion ceased 
in France, the French monarchs, used to reside. Its foun- 
dation is attributed to Juhan, the Apostate. The sole re- 
maining apartments consist of an extensive and lofty hall, 
and some cells beneath it. The hall is lighted by an im- 
mense arched window, and its vaulted roof for several ages 
supported a garden. By this we may judge how firmly and 
ftrongly the Romans used to build. I cannot, for lack of 



04 

space, express to you the kind messages with which I am 
charged. Suffice it to know, we all love you dearly. 

Leontine. 



r 

LETTER NINETEENTH. 

Visit to Versailles — The Little Trianon — The Grand Trianoii-^ 
Church of St. Louis, and Monument of the DuJce de Berri — 
Mendon — Chalk Quarries — Tortoni-s — Wandering Musicians — 
An Evening at Count Segurs — Children's Fancy Ball, 

Paris, . 

Dear Sistkr :— 

I have really a great mind to give you a scoldings instead 
of a description, for your perusal. What are you all about 
at the Lodge, that you have not written to us for this fort- 
night. Papa and mamma are quite out of patience with 
you, and desire me to request you will answer this the mo- 
ment it reaches you. Indeed, I hope you will, for they are 
evidently uneasy in consequence of your long silence. 

Now, let me tell you of our visit to Versailles. We spent 
Friday there, and, carrying with us a cold dinner, partook 
of it under the trees near the Petit Trianon, havincr gained 
a keen appetite by first walking over the immense palace 
and its garden ; of the splendors of both you are well aware. 
We were not much pleased with our rustic mode of eating 
on the grass, the premises of the table-cloth being frequently 
mvaded by insects. Like dancing on the turf, such arrange- 
ments are pleasanter in description than in reality. The 



95 

Petit Trianon was the favorite residence of Marie Antoi- 
nette, and there she passed a great deal of her time, free 
from the bustle and formality of the court; and devoted to 
rural occupations. The place still exhibits evidences of her 
taste and innocent amusements. The grounds are diversi- 
fied with grottos, cottages, temples, mimic rivers and cas- 
cades. Then there is a beauttful little music room, a laby- 
rinth, a dairy, and a lake. The palace is a tasteful edifice, 
and a part of the furniture is the same that was used by the 
decapitated queen. 

The Grand Trianon, another palace, situated in the 
park of Versailles, is superior to this in elegance and em- 
bellishments, but not half so interesting. The parterre, be-* 
hind the mansion, teems with Flora's choicest gifts, and re- 
minded me of the saying, that '-Versailles was the garden 
of waters ; Marly the garden of trees ; and Trianon that of 
flowers." In the orangery at Versailles, we were shown an 
orange tree which is computed to be three hundred years 
old ! It is denominated ^*The Old Bourbon," and has been 
the property of several kings of that race. Its trunk and 
foliage are remarkably thick. The garden and park are 
five miles in circumference ; and only think of these, and the 
magnificent structure overlooking them, being completed in 
seven years ! But, perhaps, did we know the number of 
workmen employed upon them during that period, the fact 
would not seem so amazing. 

We rode through the wide streets of the to\vn, visited the 



90 

Church of St. Louis, where a simple monument is erected 
in honor of the Duke de Berri, and then turned our course 
homewards, stopping for an hour at Mendon, a royal chateau 
that Napoleon fitted up elegantly for his son ; it is now 
unoccupied, though I believe the Duke de C — some- 
times spends a few w^eeks there. A noble avenue leads to 
the house, and from the terrace in front of it, the prospect 
is very fine. As we traversed the grounds, guided by an 
old soldier, we were quite diverted at the astonishment he 
expressed, on discovering, from an observation of Leonora's, 
that she and her family were ilmericans. ''Mais comme 
"i^ous etes blo-ndes !'' cried he, ^'et j'ai toujours entendu dire 
que les habitans d'Amerique etaient rouges ou noirs!"* 

At the foot of the hill of Mendon, near the banks of the 
Seine, are large quarries of chalk, that we were told merit- 
ed our attention ; but it was too late to profit by the infor- 
mation, and we hastened on to Paris. 

After resting ourselves and drinking tea, we sallied forth 
again, and strolled on the Boulevards as far as Tortoni's, to 
eat ices. He is master of a grande cafe, and famous for 
his ices and dejeunes a la fourchette. His establishment is 
splendidly illuminated every night, and so thronged w^ith 
customers, that it is often difficult to procure a seat. Some 
prefer regaling themselves before the door in their carriages; 
and there is generally a range of stylish equipages in front 

* But how fair you are ! and I have always heard that the inhabi- 
tants cf America are red or black. 



97 

of the house, filled with lords and ladies, and beaux and 
belles, partaking of the cooling luxuries of iced lemonade 
and creams, and listening to the bands of ambulatory musi- 
cians, that here are always to be found and heard, wherever 
there is a crowd. They select the popular airs of the 
theatres and those of the first composers of the day, which 
are as familiar to the common people as they are to ama- 
teurs. 

We recently spent another delightful evening at Count 
Segur's. We found him, as usual, surrounded by thele?arn- 
ed and refined ; and he met us with his accustomed smile of 
benevolence and bonhomie. There was a lively young rela- 
tive of his present, and when mofst of his visiters had de- 
parted, she insisted on his joining her and myself in playing 
^•I'Empereur est Mort," &c., and with the utmost amiability 
he complied with her wishes. The play of I'Empereur is 
similar to that termed the "Princess Huncamunca." 

While we were at the Count's, Mr. and Mrs. Danville 
attended a levee at the Hotel Marine, and the girls accooi?^ 

panied a young friend of Marcella^s (a Miss Y from 

Soissbns) to a fi\ncy ball given by the children of Madame 

Clement's seminary. Miss Y being a pupil, had the 

privilege of inviting two acquaintances, and chose Marcella 
and Leonora as her guests. They were highly entertained. 
All the scholars wore costumes, and several supported the 
characters they assumed with proper spirit. There was a 
little round, rosy faced girl, of five years old, decked as a 



98 

Cupid. She was entwined with a silken drapery, thickly 
studded with golden stars ; sandals laced on her feet, and a 
quiver slung over her plump and naked little shoulders ! In 
her right hand she held a gilt bow, and her curls were con- 
fined by a glittering bandeau. They danced until ten 
o'clock, and as none of the masculine gender w^ere admitted, 
the elder Misses played the part of beaux. I should have 
liked to join in the frolic, I confess, though not upon condi- 
tion of foregoing the pleasure we had at No. 13, Rue Du- 
phot, Count S6gur's residence. 

Papa has presented me a beautiful watch, and intends 
purchasing another for you. With tender regards to aunt 
M and Albert, I remain your attached sister, 

Leontine, 



LETTER TWENTlfLTil. 

Mechanical Theatre — The Boulevards — The derivation of the 

term. 

Paris, . 

*'Joy ! joy!'^ cried I, on looking out of the window yes- 
terday, and spying Arnaud returning from the post office 
with a letter, which, according to our wishes, proved to be 
from our naughty Jane. Arrant scribbler that I am, I hasten 
to answer it, though you must feel you do not deserve to be 
replied to so speedily. However, as this is the first time you 
have been negligent, we ought not to be relentless — so here 



99 

iwS my hand in token of forgiveness and good will ; but be- 
ware of repeating the offence. 

Having finished my lecture, and knowing you are fond of 
listening to adventures, I will now recount a droll one that 
happened to us last evening. At sunset we were w\ilking 
on the Boulevard du Temple, which abounds in every variety 
of the lower order of ^museinent^, when suddenly a violent 
shower began to fall, and, of course, every body to scamper 
to some shelter. We took refuge in the portico of an illu- 
minated building, entitled, in large transparent letters over 
the'door, '^Theatre Mecanique,'' and finally determined to 
enter and witness the acting within. We accordingly pur- 
chased tickets of the woman employed to sell them, and fol- 
lowing her up a narrow flight of stairs, were ushered into 
a confined gallery, overlooking a dirty pit, the highest grade 
of whose occupants seemed to be that of a cobbler. Four 
tallow candles lighted the orchestra, \N\ieve two hai^d plying 
fiddlers performed their tasks. We began to think we might 
be in "Alsatia !'' and then the actors and actresses ! what 
were they ? Why. a set of clumsy wooden figures that tot- 
tered in and out, and were suspended by cords so coarse, as 
to be visible even amidst the gloom that surrounded them. 
A ventriloquist made these puppets appear very loquacious ; 
and, whenever they stopped to make a speech, it was quite 
ludicrous, for they vacillated to and fro like the pendulum of 
a clock, for more than a minute. We would have rejoiced 

to get out, but the rain still poured, and we were compelled 
to remain. 



100 

After the piece was concluded, and the fiddlers bad put up 
their instruments, and were puffing out and pocketing the 
bits of candles, and we were reluctantly preparing to issue 
forth into the storm, up came the above mentioned vender 
of billets, (who, it seems, was manager likewise,) and call- 
ing to the musicians to resume their operdtions, begged us 
to be re-seated, in order to see the first act repeated, 
which we had lost by arriving too late. We availed our- 
selves of her politeness and honesty , but could scarcely re- 
frain from laughing as we did so — and, fortunately, diiring 
the half hour that succeeded, the weather cleared, and we 
were thus enabled to get home without the dreaded wetting ; 
but the Boulevards not being paved, the walking was exceedr 
ingly muddy, and it was so long ere we reached a stand of 
carriages, that when we did, we thought it m.6rie prudent to 
continue our route on foot than to risk sitting in our wet shoes. 
As you may not know what is meant by the ^'Boidevards^^^ 
I will tell you. They are wide roads, or streets, edged 
with spreading umbrageous elms, and formerly bounded the 
city, but now, from its increase in size, they are ivithin it. 
Their appellation of "Boulevards'' is derived from "bonier 
sur le vert," to '-bowl upon the green'^ — being once covered 
with turf, and the frequent scene of playing at bowls. Here, 
nightly, the citizens forget the cares and labors of the day, 
and resign themselves to pleasure and mirth. Rows of 
chairs, owned and placed there by poor persons, may be 
hired for two sous a piece. Adieu. 

Leontine, 



101 

LETTER TWENTY-FIRST. 

Places of Protestant Worshij:) in Paris — History of Mr. Lewis 
Way, an Ulnglish Divine, 

Paris, . 

Dear Jane : 

Here is an interesting narrative to amuse you, which I 
have just heard related. Jn the Cha??ips Elj/sees, there 
stands a beautiful Protestant chapel, where we attend divine 
service almost every Sabbath ; if w^e do not go there, we 
repair to the oratorio, a Protestant church, in the Eue St^ 
Honore, or to the English Ambassador's, where there is pub- 
lic w^orship every Sunday, or to another temple consecrated 
to our form of worship, (the Church of the Visitation,) in 
the Rue Saint Antoine. Bishop Lusconabe officiates at the 
oratorio, and Mr. Wilkes, a Presbyterian clergyman, assem- 
bles his congregation in an upper apartment adjoining the 
church. The history in question, is that of the Rev. Mr. 
Lewis Way, who owns the chapel in the Champs Ely sees 
^ncl preaches there ; he is extremely eloquent and energetic, 
and speaks plain truths to his flock w^ithout hesitation, when 
necessary. It is said that when a youth he had an ardent 
desire to be educated for the church; but his parents 4)eing 
extremely poor^ and not having any relatives to assist him, 
he became a student of law at the temple, and Wiis one 
morning proceeding to his labors, when he observed his 
own name inscribed on the door-plate of a handsome dwell- 
ing. He immediately ascended the steps, and requested to 
h2 



102 

speak with the master of the house ; and on his appearance, 
after apologizing for the liberty he was taking, told his 
story, represented his forlorn situation, and begged to be 
informed if there was any relationship between them. On 
comparing notes he found there w^as not^ and \vas taking 
leave; but the gentleman, w^ho was an odd old bachelor, 
insisted on his prolonging his visits and, in the interim, sent 
a trusty servant to inquire his character of the lawyer under 
whom he studied, and w^ho happened to be the one w^hom 
he (Mr. Way, senior) usually employed. 

The lawyer's answer was highly creditable to his pupil, 
and from that moment the old gentleman adopted him, en- 
abled him to take orders, and, dying soon afterwards, be- 
queathed him a fortune of 300,000 pounds sterling. The 
sudden accession of such w^ealth affected his brain, and he 
was crazy for several years. Now^, /think he must have 
been so, w^hen he introduced himself so strangely to his 
benefactor ; hut be that as it may, on rega'ining his senses, 
he resolved to make Paris his future home, and to devote 
his time to the Protestants in that city. He accordingly 
came over here, purchased the hotel Marboeuf, his present 
aboffe, and converted a portion of it into the tasteful little 
chapel, where he addresses and edifies a numerous congre-r 
gation on all holy days. 

The seats of the chapel are covered v/ith cerulean velvet, 
the windows ornamented with paintings^ and there is a good 
organ, upon which one of his daughters (for he has married 



103 

and has several children) always performs. A shady and 
pleasant garden adds to the beauty and comfort of the place!, 
And thus ends my story, for the truth of which, ren^ember, 
I do not vouch. 

Binju^t as it was told to me, 
Have I detailed it unto thee. 

And with this flourishing rhypae conclude. Yours, 

Leontine, 



LETTER TWENTY-SECOND. 

Excursion to Lagrange — Count de Tracy and Madame Ld 
Fayette — Theatre of Monsieur Compte — Chinese Baths, 

Paris, — -— . 
I thank you, beloved sister ! for your affectionate letter 
of the — instant, and shall not delay answering it, for I am 
impatient to inform you of our recent agreeable excursion to 
Lagrange. On Friday we availed ourselves of the kind 
General's invitation, and, rising very early, commenced our 
journey to his castle. We partook of coffee, eggs, and 
bread and butler, at a village some leagues hence, and, 
having rested the horses, went on so rapidly as to reach 
Lagrange in time for dinner; met with a cordial reception 
from all the family, and were introcjuced to several distin- 
guished guests. Among these, were the venerable Coun^t 
de Tracy and the celebrated Monsieur Constant. The for- 
mer is the father of Madame G. Lafayette, and a charming 



104 

old gentleman he is. The latter, the intimate friend of Ma- 
dame de Stael, and the leader of the liberal party in the 
Chamber of Deputies, I have descriJDedto you in aprevious 
letter^ Madame George W. Lafayette is the presiding hos- 
jtess of Lagrange, ai;d has uncommonly affable and affec- 
tionate manners ; indeed, the whole family (as I have al- 
ready remarked) are extremely amiable, and so charita- 
ble, that many poor persons in their neighborhood are sup- 
ported by their bounty. 

Madame Lafayette, senior, you know, died of a ma- 
lady contracted in the damp and noxious dungeon of 
Olmutz, while she shared her husband's captivity. Her 
memory is deservedly venerated by him, and I am toljd that 
he cannot speak of her, without shedding tears of sorrow 
and gratitude, at the recollection of her sufferings and self- 
sacrifice for his sake. He showed us a miniature of their 
jailor, which was taken by his eldest daughter, Madame de 
Maubourg, during their imprisonment, in the following sin- 
gular manner. She drew it first on her thumb nail with a 
pin, not being allowed a pencil or paper ; however, having 
found means to obtain a piece of crayon and a blank leaf 
from a book, she copied the head sketched on her nail, and, 
as the resemblance was striking, her father h^s sinpe had it 
painted in oil colors, by an artist, who has enlarged the de- 
signj; by portraying the old Cerberus with a huge bunch of 
keys, and in the act of unlocking the prison door. It is 
quite an interesting little picture. 



105 

I will now describe the farm, for we examined all parts of 
it. Order and neatness reign throughout the domain, and 
the General himself sees that nothing is neglected. He has 
a numerous flock of merino sheep, well guarded by a shep- 
herd and two faithful dogs. Their sagacity and vigilance 
are remarkable ; if one of the flock separated itself from 
the others only a few feet, these dogs would observe it in an 
instant, and hasten to drive back the wanderer to its place, 
which they always did with evident tendt-rness. The horses, 
cows and swine were in a thriving condition, looking con- 
tented, fat and sleek. The poultry yard contains foreign as 
well as domestic fowls; they are accommodated according 
tb their habits, and form an amusing spectacle. The regu- 
lations of the kitchen, the dairy, the ice-house, stables and 
pig-styes, are admirable, and you may tell Albert, that I ad- 
vise him to come over and take a lesson in such useful ar- 
rangements, "though I will answer for it, you. entertain so 
exalted an opinion of his knowledge on all subjects, that you 
deem more 'acquirements or improvements unneccessary, 
^^Mais revenons au Chateau." 

It is a stone building, enclosing three sides of a square 
court. There are five towers, one at each corner, and 
one in the centre of the left side of the castle, as you enter 
through a large arch which leads into the square court ; it 
is surrounded by a thickly spreading ivy, which was planted 
by our great statesman, Charles James Fox, more than 
iwenty years ago, while on a visit to Lagrange. You ap- 



106 

proach the arch by a bridge, thrown over a raoat^ bounding 
two sides of the castle, and terminating in a small lake. 
Here may sometimes be seen floating an American boat, that 
in 1824 beat an English one, in a race on the water at New 
York, and was afterwards presented to the good General. He 
is adored by the Americans, and quite devoted to them and 
their interests. His drawing room is decorated with the 
portraits of their Presidents, and in an adjoining room may 
be seen, in golden frames, their declaration of independence 
and the farewell address of Washington ; also, the colors of 
the ^' Brandywine,'' the ship they sent out wdth him when 
he returned from an excursion to their country four years 
ago. These colors were presented to him by the officers of 
that vessel, and the midshipmen gave him, as a testimony of 
their respect, a handsome silver urn, with an appropriate 
inscription. The library and a cabinet of curiosities are 
likewise supplied with American productions. In the first, 
are beautiful engravings of various parts of the United 
States, some American w^orks, and the cane of Washing- 
ton ; and in the second, divers odd articles of Indian man- 
ufacture. 

On Saturday, we took leave of Lagrange and its in- 
mates ; their kindness and attention to us, and the pleasure 
we derived from our visits to them, we can never forget ; 
they will be associated with our most agreeable remin- 
iscences of France. Last night we w^ent to the theatre 
of Monsieur Compte, w^here all the performers are 



fi 



107 

children ; the little creatures acted remarkably well and 
with great spirit, and we were highly diverted. Monsieur 
Compte is considered the best ventriloquist in Europe. 

Edgar and Sigismund have been taking lessons in swim- 
ming ; there are several excellent schools here for teaching 
the art, and one for ladies ; and Marcella, Leonora and my- 
self had serious thoughts of entering as pupils, but finally con- 
cluded we had enough of loater-works at the delightful '^Chi- 
nese Baths," on Wednesdays and Saturdays, our regular 
bathing days, when W'e usually rise extremely early, so as to 
accomplish our purpose, and get back in time for breakfast. 
The ^'Chinese Baths" are so called, because the building 
containing them is in the Chinese style ; in front is a parterre 
of flowers, and, beyond this, masses of artificial rocks, witli 
a couple of Chinese figures among them ; the whole ar- 
rangement is singular and picturesque. The H 's have 

returned to town for a few weeks, and we are engaged to 
pass this evening with them. I do not covet going, how- 
ever, for their parties are said to be very stiff: 

With our usual affectionate greetings to aunt Margaret, 

Albert, and yourself, I Conclude. 

Leontine. 



108 
£etter twenty-third. 

A sociahle eiicning at the Ex-Minislefs of the Marine — Museum of 
Artillery- -Bay Market — Cor?i Market — St. Germain VAuxcr^ 
rois, 

Paris, . 

Dear Ja>-e : 

Our stay here is drawing to a close, and, consequently^ 
during the last ten days, we have been so occujned in shop- 
ping, visiting and sighi-seeing, that I have found it itnposr 
sible to write ; but here is a rainy day, and I take advantage 
of it to resume our correspondence. We called yesterday 

to take leave of Monsieur and Madame de N -, and 

they looked happier, I assure you, in their own residence in 
the Faubourg du Roule, than they did when inhabiting the 
sumptuous edifice of the ^^Admiralty," on the place ^'Lonis 
Qif.inze,'^ I suppose you have learnt from the newspapers 
that Monsieur de N — — - thought it prudent to resign hi§ 
officey and has been succeeded by Monsieur . 

We found him and Madame de N— ; surrounded by 

friends, who had accidentally dropped in as well as our- 
selves, and the evening being sultry, the company were re- 
galed with delicious sorbets and iced creams. Ecarte was 
soon introduced among the elder gentry, and several of Mr. 
de Neuville's young nieces being there, our brothers and 
two other youthful beaux, the girls and myself, joined them 
in playing '^Tierce" and Blindman's-buff in the saloon.- 
We enjoyed ourselves thus till quite a late hour. 

One of the most curious and interesting places that has 



109 

recently attracted our attention, is the '' Museum of Artil- 
lery," in the street of the University. It is the depot of a 
great variety of antique armor, ordnance and implements of 
war, and among the first we beheld the coat of mail of 
many a famous champion, and that of Joan of Arc, which 
we thought uncommonly large to fit a woman. Every ar- 
ticle is kept beautifully neat and bright, and a number of 
the things are labelled, which saves the trouble of a guide 
to explain their names and use. Another most singular 
place we have seen is the '^Marche du Vicux LingCy^ or 
"rag fair." This is an emormous building divided into four 
halls, containing 800 stalls or petty shops. And oh ! the 
queer articles that are in these shops ! — taw^dry second hand 
hats and dresses — old shoes, old gloves, old ribbons, old 
trunks, old carpets*, bedding, chairs, and other furniture. 
These castaways are vamped up for sale, and wo betide the 
unfortunate wight whose path lies through or near the mar- 
ket ; he is sure to be assailed and deafened with loud im- 
portunities from every quarter, to ^^come and buy," and may 
think himself lucky if he be not seized and absolutely forc- 
ed into some of the stalls, to behold their wonders. We 
w^ent out of mere curiosity, and were glad to hurry out as 
quickly as our feet could carry us, the people were so rude 
and presuming. 

The '^Halle au Ble," or "corn market," well merits ex- 
amination. It is a large circular edifice of stone, enclosing 
one immense hall with a vaulted roof of sheet iron ; sup- 



110 

ported on an immense framing of cast iron ; from a window 
inj^the centre of which the light descends. The bags of 
corn are heaped in enormous masses at regular distances, and 
through the myriad of narrow passages formed by these 
you thread your way. 

To-day we visited the venerable church of St. Germain 
P Auxerrois, the bell of which tolled the signal for the Cath- 
olics to commence their direful murders on the eve of St. 
Bartholomew, in 1572. It was once rich in pictures and 
statues ; at present, it is remarkable only for its antiquity 
and the curious carving around its portal. Its founder was 
the cruel and superstitious Childebert, and two statues of 
stone, near the entrance, are said to represent him and his 
wdfe. On the fete de Dieu, the royal family walk there in 
procession from the palace of the Tuileries, to hear mass. 
They are magnificently arrayed and attended by a concourse 
of priests and soldiers, and by a band of females clad in 
white, who strew roses in their path. From St. Germain, 
we hastened to the palace of the fine arts on the quay 
Conti. For an account of it, you must wait till my next 
letter reaches you; this, you perceive, is almost full, so ^ 
while I have room, I had better insert the name of your at- 
tached 

Leontine. 



HI 



LETTER TWENTY-FOURTH. 



Packers — The Muette de Portici — Tke Whale — Place Louis. 
Qainze — Manufacture of Chocolate — Iced Creams — Chanqjs de 
Mars — Racing — Palace of the Fine Arts and Royal Academy 
or Institute. 

Paris, . 

'* What ! again at your pen Leontine ?" inquires Marcella; 
^•assuredly you are a most indefatigable scribe or an exceed- 
ingly devoted sister V\ ^^ Leave out the or^^'' I answer, '^ for 
I am hothP You, dearest Jane, can bear witness to the 
truth of my assertion, and I hope it will ever be my pride 
to merit the second appellation. Indeed, it would be shame- 
ful if I did not endeavor to deserve it, as you continually 
set me the example. This w^ill be my last letter from Paris, 
for the signals of our departure are resounding through the 
saloon, from the hammers of the packers there busily en- 
gaged. Here, for five francs, you may have your fine 
dresses and hats, &c., &c., safely and neatly arranged for 
travelling, by men who thus gain their hving ; and it is sur- 
prising with what adroitness and fitness they adjust each 
article, depositing more in ona box or trunk than we could 
in two^ and fixing every thing so securely that it cannot get 
injured, no matter how violent the motion of the carriage 
may be. 

On Wednesday, we shall set out for the borders of the 
Rhine. Papa has determined to proceed to Strasbourg, and 
thence descend the river as far as Niraueguen, where we 



112 

shall abandon the steamhoat for the stage, and commence 
our tour through Holland. How I shall regret to part with 
the Danvilles ! Poor Edgar, it will cost him a severe pang 
to bid farewell to Marcella, though I verily believe she has 
refused him, judging from certain indescribable, but very ex- 
pressive symptoms in their recent behaviour towards each 
other. Alas ! we shall probably never see her again. Mr. 
Danville has promised to rejoin us at Morven Lodge, about 
the period of your marriage. Papa, without assigning the 
reason of his request, has urged him to be with us there by 
the 10th of April ; but I have been so loquacious as to ex- 
plain all to Leonora, and we have decided on acting as 
bride's maids, which you must own is extremely kind. 
Pray, don't scold me in your next for tattling, and don't tell 
Albert of my volubility ; you know^, he always insists that 
the stale and foolish sayincr, '^^a woman cannot keep a se- 
cret," is correct, and he v/ould be sure to crow over my 
frailty. This evening we are going to see the opera of the 
^^Muettc de Portici,^' in which there is a representation of 
Mount Vesuvius in a state of eruption, and the imitation is 
considered excellent and wonderful. Our party will be 
large, but I suspect not gay, for the reflection, that in two 
days we shall be far separated, wull doubtless cast a gloom 
over the mind of each. As for me, I cannot bear to dwell 
upon the subject in thought or w^ord, so will hasten to an- 
other. 

Who should drop in upon us yesterday evening, while 



113 

we were at tea, but Ernestus Blanforcl, and he rendered 
himself doubly welcome by delivering your despatches. 
Thank you for my share of them and for the beautiful em- 
broidered reticule. Mamma is much pleased with her's. 
Really, you are cunningly skilled in producing. Love in a 
Mist J Hearfs Ease, and Bachelor^ s Buttons ; may you 
be as successful in creating the first and second in the hy- 
meneal state ; for the third, there will then be no demand. 
Our father and brothers desire their acknowledgments for 
the w^atch-guards you wove them, and Sigismund bids me 
say, that if the chains with which you have encircled Albert 
are as soft and silken as those just received, he is no longer 
amazed at his tame submission to thraldom. 

We took a farewell drive through the city this morning, 

and visited the whale now exhibiting on the place ^^Louis 

Quinze/' in a neat edifice erected for its reception ; and 

what do you think of their having converted the poor dead 

monster into a reading room ? It is a fact, that the interior 

of the carcass is decorated and furnished for that purpose, 

and is the resort of the newsmonger, as well as the curious I-^ 

It was on the place ^^Louis Quinze,^' (from the centre of 

which, the view of palaces, avenues, colonades and bridges, 

is superb,) that the royal martyrs, and thousands of other 

victims of the reign of terror, met their fate, at the foot of 

a statue of Liberty, erected during that bloody period on 

the ruins of an equestrian statue of Louis XV. This was 

overthrown by the remorseless revolutionists, although it 

i2 



114 

was universally regarded as an exquisite piece of sculpture, 
(especially the'horse,) and was the chef d'ceuvre of Bouch- 
ardon. Issuing like Jonah from the whale, but probably 
with less velocity J we went to the Bazaar to purchase some 
rolls of sweet chocolate, which we are advised to carry 
with us, as being agreeable and wholesome to eat early in 
the morning, when travelling a long distance to breakfast. 
While the woman who sold it was tying up the package, vre 
questioned her about the conflagration of the old Bazaar, 
that happened several years ago, and among other things 
ghe told us that two Anacondas, confined in a room of the 
building, perished in the flames, and, during their torments, 
shrieked like human creatures. 

It is quite amusing to remark the variety of forms into 
which chocolate is cast here. Tiny boots and shoes, pots 
and kettles, bugs and nuts, little men and little women, and 
numerous other objects, are represented by the ingenious 
manufacturer of that luxury. As for the bugs with their, 
wire legs, and the divers sorts of nuts, you can distinguish 
them from real ones only by the touch or taste. While on 
the subject of eatables, let me mention the peculiar manner 
in which iced creams are served at balls and parties. Each 
kind is moulded into the shape of the fruit with which it is 
flavored, and frequently a peach or apple dexterously tinged 
with red, to render the semblance of nature more complete. 
The plates containing them are usually in the form of a 
golden grape leaf; the stem turned up constitutes a handle, 



115 

and golden spoons accord with the burnished leaf. When 
an entertainment is given, it is only necessary for the mas- 
ter or mistress to send a mandate for the requisite number of 
ices, to Tortoni, Hardi, or any other adept in the freezi7ig 
art. and at the appointed hour they arrive, disposed in the 
tasteful order just described. 

We have lately witnessed a race on the "Field of Mars," 
the spot appropriated to such sports and to military parades. 
It is a vast plain, in front of the military school, and is 
capable of admitting the evolutions of 10,000 soldiers with- 
in its boundaries. These consist of rows of trees and a ver- 
dant bank, or a wide wall of turfed earth, which affords a 
safe and convenient station for the spectators of the scene 
below. The race road is immediately beneath the bank, and 
separated from the area of the plain by stone pillars con- 
nected w^ith iron chains — beyond these, the carriages and 
horsemen are ranged. We observed several ladies dashing 
about on horseback at a fearless rate, and among them the 
pretty Mrs. W., the Yankee wife of a rich banker. On one 
side there was a pavillion wherein w^e procured seats, and 
the royal family occupied another near it, which had been 
prepared for them. The little duke of Bordeaux and his 
youthful sister were in extacies w^henever the horses ran by. 
The chief contention w'as between a courser of Monsieur 
Casimir Perrier and one belonging to Lord Seymour. The 
French steed gained the victory, much to the delight of ihc 
populace. But some Fno-lislimrn surmisp,! that if Pnrdy 



116 

had been there, matters would have ended differently. 1 
asked Mr. Danville who they meant by Purdy, and he in- 
formed me that he is a countryman of ours, who once dis- 
tinguished himself in America (at the city of New York, I 
think he said) by mounting a famous horse, ycleped Eclipse^ 
and wrestling the palm from Henry, a celebrated racer of 
the South. At present, I must fulfil my promise of describ- 
ing to you the "palace of the arts," anciently termed the 
colleo;e of the four nations, because it was desio;ned bv its 
founder. Cardinal Mazarin, for the reception of pupils from 
among the four nations subdued by Louis the great. 

It is a handsome structure, extending for many yards 
along the borders of the Seine. Its designation has been 
changed, and it is now used by the "Royal Academy or In- 
stitute,'' for their private meetings and general assemblies. 
This corps of Savans was established in the reign of Louis, 
and is composed of the elite of the philosophers, artists and 
literary men of the kingdom. They correspond with the 
literati of all countries, and have done much in the cause of 
literature and the arts and sciences. They have ranged 
themselves into four classes ; the first is devoted to the im- 
provement of natural philosophy, chemistry and mathema- 
tics, and is denominated the ^ ^Academy of Sciences ;" the 
second makes the language and literature of France its care, 
and is called the "French Academy ;" the third applies it- 
self to history and ancient learning, and bears the title of 
the "Academy of Inscriptions and Belles Lettres ;" and the 



117 

fourth, the ^.^Academy of the Fine Arts," is employed on 
music, painting, sculpture and architecture. The classes 
meet separately once a week, and hold each general annual 
association in the months of March, April, July and Octo- 
ber ; at which times prizes are awarded by the Academy of 
the Fine Arts, to such as deserve them ; who are afterwards 
permitted to repair to Rome and remain there some years to 
improve themselves in their vocations, the government pay- 
ing their expenses. The hall in which the general meet- 
ings are held, was formerly a chapel ; beneath it Cardinal 
Mazarin lies buried. The members wore a costume of black 
and green, and the successful candidates are sometimes 
crowned with wreaths of laurel. The hall, and .several 
apartments leading to it, are decorated with statues of vari- 
ous distinguished characters, — as Bossuet, Fenelon, Sully, 
Pascal, Descartes, Rollin, Moliere, and others, whose names 
are venerated by the learned and good. The post hour has 
arrived, so farewell to my ^'bonny Jean''— -we shall soon be 
still farther from you, but any where and every where I 

shall still be your devoted sister, 

Leontine. 



THE DEAD BRIDE; 

OR, 

**THE FOUNTAIN OF TREVI.' 



A TALE FOUNDED ON FACT. 



In the spring of 18 — , two young ladies, attended by 
their brother, sallied forth from one of the chief hotels in 
Rome, to view some of its architectural wonders and inhale 
the balmy air of a glorious morning. 

Day, * ^beautiful day !'' shed a golden lustre upon dome, 
column and spire, each of which seemed rejoicing beneath 
the brightening influence, as in gleaming grandeur it tower- 
ed to the skies. 

The pedestrians proceeded first to the '^Fountain of 
Trevi," which is considered the most beautiftil and most 
wholesome in the city. They admired its capacious basin, 
which is many feet in circumference and several feet deep ; 
its pile of artificial rocks in the centre, and the colossal 
figure oif old Neptune in his car of shoUs, drawn by sea- 
horses and guided by Tritons; its emblematical statues and 
basso-relievos, one of the latter representing the peasant 
girl who directed some thirsty soldiers to the source of this 
fountain, (eight miles distant,) from which circumstance it is 
termed "Aqua Virgina ;" and another portraying the val- 
iant Marcus Agrippa, the embellisher of Rome, to whom the 
ancient city is indebted for the Pantheon, and many of its 
noblest edifices. 

As they stood upon its brinK'; examining its decorations 



ISO 

and listening to its musical ripplings — **What a charming 
conception for a fountain V^ exclaimed Constantia, the 
younger sister, whose dark and mirthful eyes, glowing 
cheeks and dimpled mouth contrasted strongly with the 
pale and pensive, yet lovely face of Dora, the elder. '^All 
hail to the son-in-law of Augustus, for having had this wa^ 
ter conducted to Rome, although it w^as merely for the self^ 
ish purpose of supplying his baths. And more thanks still 
to Clement the Twelfth, for the ornamental devices and 
statues he has lavished upon it, thus rendering it so gooflly 
a spectacle for our present benefit ! How refreshing just to 
look upon it and hear its murmurings V^ 

'^ Do you remember/^ said Dora, '^ Madame de Stael^s 
beautiful description of it in her thrilling novel ^Corinne?' 
I should like to come and read it here on the spot some clear 
moonlight night. Suppose we do V^ 

^'Agreed, thou romantic girl, if Ernest will again be our 
escort," replied Constantia^ 

Their brother acceded to the proposition ; and they con- 
tinued their ramble to the Piazza Monte Cavallo, a noble 
square, pleasantly situated on the Quirinal Hill, and sur- 
rounded by magnificent buildings. In the midst of these, 
rises a lofty Egyptian obelisk of red granite, flanked by two 
celebrated specimens of antique sculpture, attributed to 
Phidias and Praxiteles, the majestic figures of Castor and 
Pollux with their struggling chargers. From these superb- 
ly executed coursers, the square derives its name of ''Monte 
Cavallo*'' 

After gratifying curiosity and admiration here, they pro- 
ceeded to the Rospiglio Palace, to see the famous picture of 
Aurora, or morning personified, by Guido Reni. It is paint- 
ed in// 'f5.9Co. (an art now lost,) on the ceiling of a basement 



i 



131 

room, and wonderful is it for beauty of design^ coloring and 
expression ! 

Another party of English visitors were present, and quite 
enthusiastic in their encomiums on it, and among them a 
young lady so intent upon inspecting the picture, that, gaz- 
ing upwards and w^alking backwards at the same time, she 
came suddenly against Constantia, and was near being pros- 
trated. Recovering her balance, she turned to apologize for 
her rough intrusion on the pretty foot she had pressed, when 
the owner of it and herself simultaneously ejaculated in 
joyful surprise — ^^Why, my dear friend, are you here ?'^ At 
the same moment, Dora and Ernest appoaching, affectionate 
greetings w^ere exchanged between them all ; for who should 
it be but their friend and former schoolmate, Sophia Elfort, 
standing so unexpectedly among them ! They had parted 
the year before in London, and at that time she had no idea 
of following them to Italy ; but, in the meanwhile, two 
wealthy relatives, Mr. and Mrs. Mervin, having invited her 
to accompany them in a lour on the continent, she accepted 
their kindness, and was thus again united, much sooner than 
either of the three anticipated, to her favorite associates. 

She introduced them to the Mervins, and after spending 
an hour together in social chat, and promising to meet often, 
the travellers separated and returned to their respective 
hotels to breakfast. 

We w^ill now retrograde in our story, in order to render it 
more intelligible to the reader. 

Mr. Wentworth, a rich merchant of Bristol, a man of 
sense and refinement, and of high parentage, was travelling 
for his health, accompanied by his wife, his two daughters, 
Dora and Constantia, and his only son Ernest, a chief actor 
in some of the scenes to be described. 



122 

The family had passed the ^^inter in Florence ; but, ow- 
ing to Mr. Wentworth's indisposition, they lived very re- 
tired, with the exception of Ernest, who, becoming intimate 
wdth two gay and fashionable young men from England, was 
often induced to join in their amusements and mingle with 
the world. After spending many weeks in a round of dis- 
sipation, he determined on going to Rome with his new 
friends and boon companions, Herman and Medway, and 
there aw^aited the arrival of his parents and sisters, who 
purposed remaining a month longer in Florence. They de- • 
parted with letters of introduction, that soon enabled them 
to share in the festivities of Rome as they had done in those 
of Florence, and they joined in the frivolities and mad frolics 
of the carnival with great zest. 

At that time, there resided in the Rue de Ripetta, an Ital- 
ian gentleman, the Signor Albertini. with his only daughter, 
the lovely LaUra, and his orphan niece, the fair Eudosia, 
whose father, Mr. Sanford, was an Englishman, and once a 
resident of Naples, where he married the sister of Alber- 
tini. Eudosia was about seven years old when her parents 
removed to London to take possession of an inheritance be- 
queathed them by a distant relation. In the course of a few 
years they also died, and she was left, at the age of thirteen, 
a wealthy heiress and unprotected. Albertini immediately 
offered her a home, (his motives, we will not scan,) and she 
gladly exchanged 'Hhe vapors, clouds and storms'^ of old 
England, for the bland and sunny clime of her native 
"Italia," where she soon became the devoted and beloved 
companion of her beautiful cousin, Laura. Being nearly of 
the same age, they attended the same schools, and pursued 
their studies congenially together until womanhood, when. 



123 

buoyant with spirits and pleasant anticipations, they enter- 
ed society. 

For poor Laura, these were quickly blighted. The ava- 
ricious disposition of her father proved as fatal to her bud- 
ding hopes and affections, as is the breeze from the baneful 
upas to the flower upon which it may chance to blow* 
Talented, and very lovely, she attracted numerous admirers, 
and among them a rich nobleman. Lord V. She disliked 
him exceedingly, and avoided and repulsed him on every 
occasion ; but he was as invulnerable to slight and rude- 
ness, as was Achilles .to the weapons of his foes — -nay, more 
so, for the Greek champion could be wounded in the heel, 
but Lord V. was entirely callous ; and perceiving that the 
sordid Albertini favored his suit, he prosecuted it with an 
ardor which rendered him still more detestable to the object 
of his passion. Compelled, at length, by her stern and in- 
exorable sire, to listen to the addresses of her tormentor, 
and consent to sacrifice herself at the shrine of mammon, the 
timid girl became almost broken-hearted. Eudosia deeply 
sympathised with her, and vainly strove* to soothe and cheer 
her. Calm and tearless, she moved about, as it w^ere, in a 
lethargy of grief, and every day the roses faded from her 
cheek. 

Things were in this sad state, when the Duchess of M. 
gave a ball, and she being the aunt of Lord V., Albertini 
insisted that his daughter and niece should attend her gala. 
He was not to be disobeyed, and they did so, though most 
reluctantly. 

Dressed in virgin white, and pale as the snowy w^reaths 
that twined her hair, Laura entered the splendid halls of the 
Duchess, accompanied by Eudosia and Albertini, who, as 
he advanced between them, reminded one of a dark and 



124 

lowering cloud separating two lovely stars. Having paid 
their respects to the hostess of the palace, they stationed 
themselves in a favorable position for viewing the dancers, 
where we will leave them for the present, and recount what 
was passing on the opposite side of the ball-room between 
two young cavaliers, conversing as follows : 

'^ Ernest, did you ever behold a more complete realization, 
in face and form, of Byron's Zuleika, than that beauteous 
being novv' before us ? V/hat a divine creature !" 

"She is, indeed !'' replied his companion, involuntarily 
repeating the lines alluded to, as he gazed upon the uncon- 
scious girl to whom his attention was called — upon Laura, 
who, fair and drooping as a lily — fit emblem of her purity 
and Sweetness — stood leaning on her father's arm. 

" Oh, cease your poetizing, Ernest," cried Herman ; " for 
to me it nov\^ seems very i^'f'osing, as I am impatient to find 
out who she is ; and before the revels are over we must form 
her acquaintance — for she is a goddess at whose shrine I 
fain would worship : so come along." 

''•What think you of the blue-eyed sylph on the other side 
of that scowling old gentleman ?" asked Medway, who had 
just then approached and heard their remarks. 

" 'Aime les yeiix noir si tu "Wiif^'^'^'^i — 
Moi, j'aime les yenx bleu.' " 

"Ah! well, aid us in our voyage of discovery, and we 
will not interfere with your choice," was the reply, and the 
lively trio mingled with the crowd around them. 

A few hours afterwards, Medway was dancing with 
Eudosia, and Ernest and Herman holding " sweet converse" 
with Laura. 

Seated in an alcove, apart from the ^'busy throng," they 



125 

listened to her gentle tones, and, alike entranced by her 
beauty and intelligencej the friends became rivals. Lord V. 
witnessed, with jealous and angry feelings, their devotion to 
bis betrothed, and, seeking Albertini, the destiny of poor 
Laura was soon decided ; for he demanded and obtained the 
promise of a speedy union. 

At a late hour, Albertini returned home with his daugh- 
ter and niece, and informed them that in one month from 
that night the proposed nuptials were to be solemnized, as 
Lord V. would not consent to delay them any longer. 

In vain did Laura and Eudosia plead for a respite : it was 
peremptorily denied ; and oppressed with disappointment 
and sorrow, they retired to their chamber, not to rest, but to 
mingle their tears and vain regrets. At early dawn, Laura 
arose fi^om her sleepless couch, and wrote the following note 
to her father. Pity that it had not softened his adaman- 
tine heart, and changed his stern resolve. 

" Father ! father ! once more I supplicate for mercy. 
Oh ! grant it to me, I beseech you ! I am almost frantic at 
the thought of marrying Lord V., that hateful man ! He 
is odious to me, and a union with him will be more dreadful 
than the bitterest death ! Father, will you not save me 
from it ? Would that he had never crossed my path, which 
he has so strewn with thorns. Father, again I call upon you 
to save me from him, to rescue me from a fate that will im- 
pel me to destruction with a power as irresistible as that 
which draws the doomed vessel into the maelstrom I'^ 

The appeal was useless — her fate was sealed. 

We will now return to our three heroes, Ernest, Her- 
man and Med way. 

After the departure of the cousins from the ball, they 

also left it, and repaired to their lodgings, where, before re- 
j2 



126 

tiring; they talked over the events of the evening. Med- 
way acknowledged hinaself deeply smitten with the charm- 
ing "les yeux bleu,^^ and Herman and Ernest confessed the 
passion with which the beautiful Laura had inspired them ; 
but, at th^same time, pledged themselves by the sacredness 
of friendship and fellowship, not to impede each other in the 
pursuit of her favor, but to be strictly guided in their course 
by the partiality she might evince for either. Striking 
hands to this Pythian game, they sought their pillows. 

The following afternoon they were gallantly mounted, 
and mixing with thecrowd of carriages and horsemen which 
daily assemble at four o'clock to drive and ride in the 
"Strada del Corso," the gayest and most fashionable street 
in Rome, and so called from the races which annually take 
place in it. In these the horses run without riders, and are 
covered with leather straps furnished wdth small iron points, 
w^hich prick the poor animals at every motion, and, together 
with the shouts of the spectators, urged them to full speed. 
It is a cruel sport. 

Our adventurers had not proceeded far, ere they descried the 
objects of their search in an open landau, attended, as usual, 
by the watchful sire and his chosen son-in-law. 

On recognizing Herman and Medway, Laura and Eudosia 
bowled and blushed, and the shafts of Cupid sank still 
dii^^per into the hearts he had already pierced. That night, 
ki the watching hour of twelve, dulcet sounds and melodi- 
ous voices broke upon the slumbers of the cousins, and from 
their balcony they listened, and their gentle bosoms respond- 
ed to the'lender strains that were chaunted beneath it. 

Again and again were these serenades repeated, and 
afforded poor Laura the only moments of happiness she en- 
joyed ; for whenever Eudosia and herself w^ent out, though 



127 

they always met Herman and Medway, they could seldom 
converse with either, as Albertini and Lord V. generally 
escorted them. But love is as shrewd as it is watchful, and, 
during the carnival, opportunities had occurred, whereby 
they had eluded the vigilance of their male Duennas^ and 
with the eastern eloquence of flowers, told tales of ardent 
attachment, and in stolen interviews exchanged vows of 
eternal fidelity. 

And w^hat of poor Ernest ? 'Tis tftne we should speak 
of him and tell how nobly he acted — how (true to his pledge) 
he withdrew from the fascinations of Laura as soon as he 
perceived her predilection for Herman. His parents and 
sisters arriving in Rome, he devoted himself iothem; but 
his saddened aspect and pallid cheek betrayed a secret sor- 
row within his breast, despite his efforts to conceal it. It 
was an unquenched and unrequited flame that preyed upon 
him, baffling his every struggle to subdue it. Lest he should 
meet with Laura, he kept out of society — lest he should 
hear .her spoken of, (he even dreaded the ^'magic of a name,") 
he avoided his friends, Herman and Medway, and held 
no intercourse with them for many weeks. During that 
period, how wretched was the object of his adoration ! 

Preparations were made for her approaching nuptials, or, 
more properly speaking, her immolation. Rich and rare 
was the trousseau which the golden coffers of Lord V. pro- 
vided ; and if silks and velvets, lace and jewels, could create 
felicity, the highest might have been hers — but alas ! what 
avail such gewgaws to the stricken heart ! It turns from 
them in disgust. 

"Young ladies, are you ready for our walk to the 'Foun- 
tain of Trevi?'" demanded Ernest, one evening, shortly 
after the events recounted above. ^-'Thc moon is shining 



128 

brightly, and the heavens without a cloud — if you have 
found the book, pray let us go." 

^^Here it is/^ observed Constantia ; "but Sophia Elfort 
has not arrived, and we cannot proceed without her. What 
can thus detain her ?" 

Just then they heard her voice in the corridor, and she en- 
tered, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Mervin. 

^'Well, really, mytfriend, we quite rejoice to greet you,'' 
said Dora. "We began to fear you would not come, as you 
are generally so punctual to your engagements, and it is 
jiow long past the hour appointed for assembling." 

"Pardon me, dear girls, for thus trying your patience/' 
she replied ; '^but w^hen you learn the cause of my fault, you 
will excuse me, I'm sure. Know, then; that as we came by 
the '^Chiesa del Jesu,' we observed it was illuminated, and 
entering to see what was going on, we beheld a most touch- 
ing, painful, yet beautiful spectacle ! — the lifeless body of a 
young and lovely girl, clad in bridal attire, and laid on a 
bier surrounded by a railing to prevent intruders from ap- 
proaching too near to the sacred remains. Oh ! she was 
as fair and beauteous as the orange-blossoms that decorated 
her clay-cold brow ! We learned her melancholy history 
from a bystander, and I will relate it as we sit by the foun- 
tain — to do so now", will delay us too long. Come, let us 
hasten on, for, perhaps, after listening to the sad tale, you 
will like to repair to the church and gaze upon the dead." 

They proceeded — Ernest with a dark presentiment in 
his mind, which made him shudder, and dread to hear the 
promised recital. 

A month had elapsed since he had received tidings of 
Herman and Medway, or the family in the Rue di Bipotta, 



129 

and what might not have happened in that time ! — for ^^who 
knoweth what even a day may bring forth !" 

The rays of the moon fell softly on the glittering spray 
of the Fountain of Trevi, as it danced and rippled over the 
mimic rocks in the centre. Madame de StaeFs pleasing and 
graphic description of it was read according to agreement, 
and quite hurriedly too ; for both the reader and listeners 
were impatient for the narration Sophia had promised; and 
she declined giving it until Ihe object of their visit was ac- 
complished. This done, she began, and Ernest, almost 
breathless with anxiety, placed himself at her side, leaning 
for support upon one of the stone pillars which stand upon 
the brink of the reservoir. 

"Our informant/' continued Sophia, "did not know the 
name of the beautiful corpse ; he had only been told that 
she was the daughter and sole child of a crusty old Itahan, 
whose avarice had compelled her to resign a young and ar- 
dent lover, whose affection she reciprocated, and with whom 
she had vainly tried to elope, and to marry a dissipated old 
nobleman who was very rich. Yesterday was to have been 
the wedding day of the ill-matched pair, and a numerous 
company w^ere bidden to the espousals. They assembled at 
the appointed hour, and anxiously awaited the descent of 
the bride from her chamber, where, at her request, her at- 
tendants had left her alone a short time previous to that at 
which the ceremony was to be performed. 

"The guests and attendants waited in vain — the hour 
struck and past — still she came not forth — they sought her 
apartment, the door was locked within ; they knocked, they 
called — no answer was returned — the door was forced open, 
and horror-stricken, they beheld her in ""all her rich attire 



130 

and beauty, stretched upon the nuptial couch, and still and 
cold in death ! 

^'To avoid the hateful union to which she was doomed, 
she had swallowed a subtle poison, and the too late repent- 
ant father was childless !'^ 

As Sophia concluded;, a groan, instantly succeeded by a 
heavy plunge into the deep and spacious basin of the foun- 
tain, caused the three girls to start and scream with alarm. 
Ernest had fainted and fallen in ; his sisters and Sophia 
shrieked for succor, but it was late and the street forsaken, 
and many minutes elapsed ere help arrived. Alas ! when it 
came it availed not the unhappy youth ! Cold and sense- 
less, he was drawn from the water and carried home, follow- 
ed by the terrified and weeping females. Every effort to 
restore him proved unavailing : life was extinct, and he was 
buried in the same vault wdth the beautiful and lamented 
Laura Albertini, whose story and WTetched fate our readers 
must doubtless have recognized in the sad recital of Sophia 
Elfort. On his tomb v/as engraved "Ernest ;'' on hers, 
^ 'Laura'' — nothing more bespoke the place of their rest — 
naught told of their virtues or their sorrows, save the re- 
cords of memory in the hearts of their friends. Separated 
in life, in death they were united. 

The anguish of Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth cannot be depict- 
ed — neither that of Herman. For weeks he w^as in a state 
bordering on frenzy. At length he grew more composed, 
and consented to return to England with the Wentworths, 
who, notwithstanding their own griefs, visited him in his 
affliction as being a ^^stranger in a strange land," and a 
chosen friend of their lamented son. 

Med way parted from him reluctantly, but remained in 
Rome to console and wed Eudosia, who was almost distract- 



131 

ed at the untimely end of her darling cousin. After some 
months they were united in wedlock, and with the approval 
of her uncle J the miserable Albertini, who, agonized and 
softened by the loss of his lovely daughter, no longer op- 
posed their wishes, and very soon after their marriage, re- 
tired to a monastery, where he endeavored, bya life of piety 
and penance, to obtain that inward peace the world can 
never give. Let us hope he succeeded. Lord V. wore 
mourning for his betrothed the usual period dictated by eti- 
quette, and then resumed his pursuits of pleasure in the fash- 
ionable coteries of Rome and Florence. 

And now for the moral of my story. Parents, take 
warning by the fatal and painful incident upon which it is 
founded, and let not a base regard for ^'filthy lucre," as the 
Scripture calleth it, induce you to sacrifice the happiness of 
your sons and daughters at the altar of hymen. Wedlock 
without love is bad enough ; but to share it with one while 
the heart throbs with devotion for another, is insupportable 
misery ; the mere anticipation of which has probably driven 
many to self-destruction, like the unfortunate heroine of our 
tale. 

It is finished, save that for the edification of our readers 
we will add a few lines, to say that when time had alleviat- 
ed the* grief and despair of Herman, he sought further con- 
solation in a union with the gentle Dora, and that previous^ 
to this event, Constantia and Sophia bestowed their hearts 
and hands upon two worthy nephews of Mr. Mervin. 



wo AND WEAL; 

OR, 

THE TRANSITIONS OF LIFE. 

A TALE. 



"Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow ; 
Naught may endure, but mutability." 

Mrs. M. W. Shelby. 



Harcourt and Reginald Delacy were twin brothers, and 
the only children of a brave officer, who was killed at the 
bombardment of Fort McHenry, near Baltimore, Maryland, 
during the war of 1812, between the United States and 
Great Britain. 

That ^misfortunes rarely come singly/' is as true a pro- 
verb as it is common, and this, their first calamity, was 
quickly followed by a second equally severe, the loss of their 
mother, whose constitution had been so enfeebled by long 
declining health, that she sunk under the affliction occasion- 
ed by her husband's untimely death, and, a few months after 
that melancholy event, her sainted spirit took its flight from 
earth to rejoin him in a happier sphere. 

A stetch of Mrs. Delacy may not be inopportune. She 
\vdLS the daughter of an Irish peer, beautiful, and an heiress, 
and, as might be expected, received numerous offers of mar- 
riage,' but rejected all for the sake of him who had gained 
her young affections before she entered society — her cousin 
Oswald — the gallant Major whom she wedded. 

Her disposition was extremely gay, perhaps too volatile; 



134 

but when maternal feelings were developed, they triumphed 
over every other propensity, and she readily abandoned the 
haunts of pleasure and devoted herself to her children, and 
a husband whom she idolized. He being a sensible and re- 
ligious man, the force of his example caused her to render 
a lovely character still more lovely, by the additional graces 
of piety and its attendant virtues, humility and gentleness. 
Although in her fortieth year, and a prey to blighting sick- 
ness, many personal attractions still remained ; — a set of 
delicately chiselled features, a fair skin, and large, lustrous 
hazel eyes, to which consumption, with that mysterious 
effect peculiar to z^, communicated unusual brilliancy, while 
the softness of her voice, the elegance of her manners, (for 
she had been bred in the highest circles,) and the conviction, 
which her fragile appearance instantly produced, that her 
life was fast waning away, created interest and sympathy in 
the minds of all v/ho knew her. 

A touching and a holy scene did the chamber of that dy- 
ing mother present, in the agonizing moment of separation 
from the loved ones of earth ! 

It was a gloomy November evening, and the wind in fit- 
ful gusts shook the closed blinds of the invalid^s apartment, 
but comfort and quiet reigned within. A carpet and cur- 
tains of rich crim.son, a brisk fire and an astral lamp diffus- 
ed a cheerful glow around the room, and the atmosphere 
savoured of an aromatic perfume, from a pastil burning in 
a miniature castle of gilded porcelain. Near a table, cover- 
ed with books and implements for drawing, and a tray of 
oranges and candied fruits, reclined Mrs. Delacy in an easy 
chair, while Reginald read aloud one of Mrs. Sherwood's 
excellent volumes, and Harcourt inspected a port folio of 
engravings. Suddenly, a slight faintness assailed her. and- 



135 

she requested them to extinguish the pastil and open the 
door to admit air. They did so, but she grew worse, and 
they summoned her nurse, who, alarmed at the death-like hue 
and expression of her face, immediately sent for a physician, 
and dispatched a messenger for Mr. Fitzgerald, an intimate 
friend of the family, who resided a few miles off, and had 
acted as their protector from the period of the Major's 
death. 

They cam.e, and Mrs. Delacy was soon aware of her ap- 
proaching dissolution ; she was undismayed, for she knew 
that the beneficent Creator she had served in prosperity would 
not forsake her in the hour of trouble, and on the thresh- 
old of eternity she was calm and collected. Raising her 
beautiful eyes and hands to heaven, for some minutes she 
appeared absorbed in fervent supplication; she then embraced 
and solemnly blessed her weeping sons, as they knelt by her 
side, and committed them to the guardianship of Mr, Fitz- 
gerald, and the smile of an angel beamed o'er her counte- 
nance as she thanked him, the doctor, and nurse, for their 
kindness, and left affectionate messages for absent friends. 

Ere morning, the vigils of love and duty were no longer 
necessary ; the sufferer was at rest, and the convulsive sobs 
of the bereaved brothers, the stealthy tread and low whis- 
pers of sympathising assistants, and the moaning of the 
autumn wind, which seemed chanting a requiem for the 
dead, were the only sounds that fell upon the ear, through- 
out the mansion of the departed. 

* 'Until the grave shut from our sight it's 
Victims, there is hope." 

And, although their mother's increasing palor and debili- 
ty ought to have prepared them for the ^^coming wo," Har- 
court and Reginald clung to the fond anticipation of her re- 



136 

oovery, and their bereavement was a shock that overwhelm- 
ed them with despair. 

Mr. Fitzgerald was faithful to his trust, and, when the 
last sad rites of sepulture had been performed over the 
remains of Mrs. Delacy, he removed his wards, then fifteen 
years of age, to Cherwell Cottage, his own rustic, but taste- 
ful residence, in the vicinity of Oxford. 

Here Mrs. Fitzgerald and her two little daughters greet- 
ed them with cordiality, and every thing was done to sooth 
and content them. Grief has but temporary power over 
the young ; it may cause them to droop like flowers for 
awhile, but like flowers will they revive, if bedewed with 
the waters of consolation and kindness, and thus treated, 
Harcourt and Reginald by degrees resumed their cheerful- 
ness, and shared in the sports of their bly thesome associates, 
Amanda and Rosa : these little lassies wTre several years 
younger than themselves, and as bright and blooming as the 
roses of Damascus. The income arising from the Delacy 
property was amply sufficient for the support and education 
of our young heroes, and, after a sojourn of considerable 
length at the cottage, they were placed at school, at Eton, 
in Buckinghamshire, that famous establishment founded by 
Henry the Sixth, where they continued several years ; in 
which interim, Harcourt, w^ho was as wild and bold as 
D'Israelli's ^'Vivian Grey,'' headed a row for amusement 
whenever he had a chance, and was careful not to injure 
himself by too close an application to Greek and Latin, or 
the Classics ; Reginald, on the contrary, became their de- 
votee. In truth, the patriarchal twins of yore, Jacob and 
Esau, were not more widely different in appearance, tastes 
and dispositions, than were these, our pen portrays ; and 
when qualified for their terras at College, the intellectual 



137 

and study-loving Reginald was fain to go, but the enter- 
prising Harcourt insisted upon seeking his fortune in the 
West Indies, Mr^ Fitzgerald remonstrated in vain against 
the proposal; his objections were over-ruled, and he yielded 
a reluctant consent. 

Harcourt sailed for Cuba, and never trod his native soil 
again ! He vested his property in a successful speculation : 
this tempted him to try another, then a third, a fourth ; 
each proved fortunate, and in less than five years, he was 
the proprietor of a large and flourishing plantation, well 
stocked with negroes and overseers to cultivate it. 

Yet, in the midst of this wondrous prosperity and aug- 
menting wealth, he felt as did Damocles, when feasting 
with the sword suspended over his head ; the slow but sure 
destroyer, withering consumption, which he inherited from 
his mother, attacked him even in Cuba's southern clime, 
and, notwithstanding the utmost prudence and care, for life 
to him was sweet, and he was loth to die, he became its 
victim ere he attained his twenty-fifth anniversary. He be- 
queathed his estate to Reginald, whose career had been far 
happier. Though Fortune had showered no golden favours 
o'er hini^ Love had lavished on him his rosiest smiles. 
Amanda Fit;jgerald, now a beautiful woman of nineteen, 
had plighted to him her faith, and their nuptials were to be 
celebrated as soon as he commenced the practice of his pro- 
fession, the law\ 

The intelligence of poor Harcourt's decease afflicted 
him deeply, though accompanied by the information of 
his rich bequest. Interest required that he should has- 
ten to take possession of it, and he prepared to do so — 
to leave, for six tedious months, hi:^ bstrothed ! Had the 
inheritance consisted of Golconda's diamond mines, he would 



138 

have thought them well paid for, by the performance of 
such a pilgrimage. But the dread of evil, like the antici- 
pation of enjoyment, generally exceeds its realization. 

The evening appointed for his departure arrived, and he 
sauntered with Amanda in tender converse on the banks of 
the Thames at Oxford, w^here he had graduated, with dis- 
tinction, the preceding year. A full-orbed moon poured 
down her silvery rays upon the turrets and buildings of the 
University, that venerable and illustrious seat of learning, 
and varied with light and shadow the thickly foliaged. trees 
which reared themselves around. The calmness of the 
night diffused its influence over the minds of the lovers, 
and, for awhile, they ceased to speak; Delacyat length re:» 
^umed— ^''my sweet friend," said he, '^'think of me when 
gone, as I shall think of you^ frequently, fondly, fervently ! 
fray for my welfare, as I shall pray foryoz^r'^,and Heaven 
will surely bless me with a prosperous voyage and a speedy 
return, to claim this precious hand, and make it mine for- 
ever !" Amanda responded to his affectionate appeal, and 
promised all he desired. 

It was late ere they rejoined the inmates of Cherw^ell 
Cottage; and not till long after the College bells had chim^ 
ed twelve, (which seemed to them a parting knell,) did they 
separate. The family had retired at an earlier hour, and 
left them together. 

As he bade farewell, Reginald drew from his vest a chain 
of gold and clasped it round Amanda^s neck — '^Dearest, this 
sacred relic, the gift of my angelic mother ! I leave with 
thee ; its purity and strength render it a fit emblem of our 
attachment ; so w^ear it for my sake, and now I claim the 
bridal lock you promised to have ready for me." The boon 
was given, and he tore himself away. 



139 

Amanda accompanied him to the door^ and thence gazed 
upon his receding figure as he traversed the lawn, till, in the 
depths of the avenue beyond, it was hidden from her view. 
With an aching heart she sought her chamber, and there 
yielded to the fulness of its sorrow. ^^Oh ! that I could 
have been his bride and shared the perils of this voyage !" 
she exclaimed ; ^^the wide, Vv^ide seas will soon roll between 
us, and I have sad forebodings we shall never meet again.'' 
Pressing the chain to her lips, she knelt and prayed for the 
beloved donor ; then threw herself on the couch beside her 
sleeping sister; but day dawned ere slumber closed her eye-lids. 

Her perturbed feelings communicated themselves to 
her dreams, and in them she beheld Reginald struggling 
amid the ocean's briny waves, and vainly trying to reach 
an island, near which the vessel was wrecked — at length, 
with extended hands, he grasped the shore, when a huge 
billow enfolded him and he disappeared. She uttered a 
piteous cry and awoke ; the sun was shining through the 
lattice, and an April shower falling rapidly in large drops, 
whose loud pattering had probably contributed to the illu- 
sion of her stormy dream. Rosa was dressed and the matin 
bell had rung ; so, springing from her bed, with her sister's 
aid, she was soon ready to descend to the saloon, where 
the family were at prayers, and as she joined in devotion, 
she felt her heart relieved of despondency, and full with 
faith that her lover would be protected and restored to her. 
Happy those who thus can find solace in communion 
with a merciful Providence I Amanda now reaped the 
blessings of a religious education ; her parents were strict 
members of the Protestant Episcopal church, and had 
brought up their children in accordance with its holiest pre- 
cepts — had taught them to love, honor, and 



140 

At present, trace we Delacy in his peregrinations. Af- 
ter quitting Cherwell Cottage, he walked on without ven- 
turing a glance upon temptation in the form of the fair 
being he had left standing in the door-way. Guided by the 
iight of the still presiding moon, he pursued the path to 
Magdalen bridge, so remarkable for its position and the 
beauty of its architecture. Spanning both branches of the 
Cherwellj a considerable portion of it lies over the ground 
which divides the river. Here he paused to cast a " linger- 
ing look'^ upon the exquisite landscape, and especially upon 
the poplar and leechen trees which towered in perspective, 
and sheltered the abode of the beloved one from whom he 
had just separated— perhaps for ever ! The very idea was 
insupportable, and he hurried away to his lodgings, to try 
and banish it in the forgetfulness of sleep ; but his repose, 
like Amanda's, was disturbed and unrefreshing. and when 
at day-break he entered the stage-coach for London, his 
feelings were as sombre as the sky iabove him, then dark- 
ened by masses of clouds which ultimately descended in the 
plentiful shower already mentioned. Soon, however, the 
sun shone out and a rain-bow arched the heavens ; it seem- 
ed an omen of good, and with the cheerful villages, verdant 
hedges and parks^ and an exhilirating breeze, revived his 
spirits and his hopes. 

Those who have traveled in '^ merry old England,'' wel| 
know the ease and velocity with which its smooth and level 
roads are glided over by vehicles, public or private ; the 
comfort and neatness of the inns — the smiling physiogno-^ 
mies and obligingness of the land-lords, land-ladies, waiters, 
and waiting-maids, particularly when the style and appear- 
ance of the traveler betokened liberal custom and sure pay- 
ment. Reginald experienced all these, and in due time was 



141 

set down at Wright's hotel, near the strand. The follow- 
ing day he made purchases and preparations necessary for 
his voyage, and wrote a forewell letter to Amanda — the 
second found him on board of a noble packet ship, with 
full-spread canvass, moving like a stately swan across the 
blue w^aters of the British channel. 

Among the passengers v/ere a gentleman and lady from 
New York, Colonel and Mrs. Danvers, who. with their 
three dauo^hters, had been makino; a tour throuo-h Eno;land 
and Wales, and spending a winter in London. The trio 
were lovely looking girls, and Delacy perceiving a strong 
resemblance between Adelaide, the eldest, and Amanda, 
often sought her society and paid her marked attention — 
reading, or playing chess and backgammon, or promenad- 
ing, when the sea was smooth ; they were constantly to- 
gether. It was a dangerous intimacy for susceptible and 
sympathetic souls ! 

For many days the voyagers were favoured with propi- 
tious winds and sunny skies ; but when within a week's sail 
of the American coast, the aspect of the heavens suddenly 
changed, and darkness seemed brooding o^er the vessel, as it 
rolled heavily from side to side on mountainous waves. Anon, 
flashes of lurid lightning gleamed upon the deep, accom- 
panied by peals of hoarsest thunder, and white-crested bil- 
lows dashed in furious tumult over the deck of the strug- 
gling ship, washing off all things that had not been securely 
corded to its masts or bulwarks. The straining and creak- 
ing of the timbers, the rattling of the ropes, the cries of 
the sailors as they dragged down the torn and soaking can- 
vass, in obedience to their captain's orders, issued with a 
itentorian voice throuii^h a speaking trumpet, rendered the 
icene terriffic ! Those who have not witnessed a storm at 



142 

sea, cannot conceive its sublime horror^ and the awful fear 
it excites in the breasts of the timid and inexperienced ! 
Then the dizziness — the qualmishness — the revolting sick- 
ness ! Ob, 'tis a time of trial I a rigorous test of every 
mental and bodily nerve I 

The female passengers of the "• Trident" were frantic 
\vith terror. Mrs. Uanvers and her younger daughters 
clung to their father for support and protection, but Ade- 
laide flew to Delacy. '' If doomed to be lost, let us perish 
together," she exclaimed, and threw herself into his arms, 
where she remained motionless, almost breathless^ till the 
rage and violence of the elements abated, when, recovering 
her presence of mlnd^ and abashed at this involuntary ex- 
hibition of a passion she had hitherto concealed, she broke 
from him and hastily retreated to her state-room. 

Then and thus it was that Delacy discovered his civilities 
and kindness had been misinterpreted, and had won the 
heart of his artless companion. The conviction filled him 
with pain ; generous, honorable, and benevolent, he would 
not allow even vanity to be gratified by so great, so fruit- 
less a sacrifice, on the part of another, complimentary as 
it was. What course to pursue, he hesitated — to change 
in his demeanor and treat with reserve and coldness an in- 
nocent creature, who evidently adored him, seemed cruel ; 
nay, impossible ! and yet to persevere in his attentions 
would be cherishing a hopeless, and perhaps, a fatal attach- 
ment. He thought not of danger to himself — Alas I for 
Amanda ! Alas ! for woman's love and man's fidelity ! 

After a vast deal of merlitation, Reginald determined, as 
young people generally do in cases of difficulty, to be 
guided by circumstances, (in other words, their own im- 
pulses.) and with that perilous resolve, instead of disclos- 



143 

ing his engagement and restraining his inclinations^ he con- 
tinued his usual intercourse with the bewitching girl, whose 
blushes and averted looks, when next they met, plainly be- 
trayed her recollection of the inadvertent confession she had 
made during her alarm. Reginald w^as equally confused 
and tremulous with emotion, and his agitation was not lost 
upon Adelaide — again was he misunderstood. 

They reached New-York in safety, and more than a 
month elapsed ere Reginald found a vessel bound for 
Havana, his destined port, beyond which lay the planta- 
tion bequeathed him by his brother. It was a month re- 
plete with incidents, which kindled hopes in one fond breast 
that never were to be realized. 

Delacy became domesticated at Col. Dan vers', and,' 
strange to say^, was unconscious of the spell that drew him 
there, till a fervent letter from Amanda awakened his sleep- 
ing conscience and made him aware that the fascinating: 
American had engrossed, too completely, his time and 
thoughts, and that the hours spent with her in that luxuri-' 
o;us parlor, in a fashionable square, or strolling through 
Broadway, or accompanying her in parties of pleasure on 
the water, to Staten Island^ Flushing, and other places of 
amusement, had caused him to neglect the sweet friend who 
so lamented his absence. Only once had he written to her 
since he landed. 

Repentant of his delinquency, he kissed as he refolded 
the letter, and hastened to answer it ; and struck with his 
injustice towards Adelaide, and the danger and impropriety 
of his own position, he determined to mention his engage- 
ment, and forego the enjoyment of her society during the 
remainder of his sojourn in the city. He fulfilled his pur- 
pose the next evening, and (he alternate Hush and paleness 



144 

of her cheek alone betrayed the pangs his communication 
occasioned the unhappy girl ; for wounded pride and dignity 
yielded strength and support through the hard trial, and 
not a reproachj or even a remark, escaped her lips. She 
quickly changed the conversation to an indifferent topic, 
and they parted tranquilly ; yet her heart was almost break- 
ing, and his was truly grieved. 

He now saw, too late, how imprudent, how irrationalj 
his course had been, and the pain of retrospection was 
only alleviated by the consideration that he had at last 
done his duty, and by the hope that time and absence would 
heal the wounds his presence had inflicted. 

Fallacious reasoner ! little he knew of the depth and 
clurabiHty of woman's tenderness ; the only sure conquerors 
6f which, are harshness and neglect—'tis these which de- 
stroy the romance of attachment, and gradually weakefn 
and undermine the citadel of strong affection. Time and 
absence are frail adversaries, when busy memories act as 
sentinels to oppose them. 

At the end of a melancholy w^eek, he called to bid the 
Danvers family a final adieu, and was not surprised at 
their treating him coldly ; nor could he blame them, for he 
felt that his conduct appeared cruel and ungrateful. Ade- 
laide he did not see — they told him she had gone to visit a 
relation in Brooklyn 

Reginald embarked for Havana — he was an enthusiastic 
admirer of Nature, and but for the gloomy state of his 
mind, w^ould have luxuriated in the magnificent scene 
around him, as the vessel scudded before a brisk wind, 
through the harbor of New-York, on the morning of his 
departure. He remembered too well, however, with whom 
he had oft descanted upon the beauties of that prospect, 



145 

even at that very hour ; when, as then, a brilUant sun-rise 
gilded the forests of masts which arose from the w^harve.^ 
of the city, and mellowed the green of the hills and shores 
encircling its bay. As he gazed upon the villas on some of 
the islands, with their teeming orchards and gardens, he 
remembered too well with lohom he had visited their shades 
and culled their fruits and flow^ers — and as they entered the 
" Narrows/' the splendid sea-view occasioned such painful 
reminiscences as forced him, absolutely soid-sick^ to de- 
scend to his cabin. 

It was the fifth day, after leaving New- York, that he 
was suddenly aroused from a sound nap, at early dawn, by a 
a terrible noise and commotion on deck, mingled with the 
clashing of swords and discharge of pistols in quick suc- 
cession ; he leaped from his berth, and hastily dressing, 
rushed up the gang-way — the next instant he was struck 
down senseless by a heavy blow from the blunderbuss of 
one of a pirate band, who had attacked and captured the 
ill-fated schooner, in which he was a passenger. 

How lono- he remained in this situation he knew not; but 
when he revived, and feebly raising himself, looked about, 
an appalling sight presented itself — the vessel's deck w^as 
clotted w^ith blood and strewed with corpses ! She was en- 
tirely dismantled, and floated without sail or rudder at 
the mercy of the waves and winds. The pirates had car- 
ried off every article that was valuable, and not a trace of 
them remained, save the dreadful carnage and devastation 
they had made ! Reginald reclosed his eyes in horror, but 
not dispair — he inwardly prayed to heaven for protection 
and relief, and again sunk into unconsciousness. His peti- 
tion w^as not in vain— towards evening the gory hulk, with 



146 

its ghastly burdens, was espied by the Montezuma, a Spanish 
merchantman, and was immediately pursued and boarded. 

On perceiving that Reginald still breathed, the humane 
captain had him gently removed to his ship, and used every 
effort to restore him. The bodies of the slaughtered crew 
were consigned to the deep, wdth every mark of respect 
customary on such solemn occasions — rolled up in ham- 
mocks, containing w^eights to make them sink, they were 
laid in a row, prayers read over them, a gun fired from the 
bows of the Montezuma, and then, one after another, the 
dead were launched into the ocean. 

For several days Reginald was unable to rise; he had a 
severe cat and contusion on his head, and the loss of blood 
and appetite rendered him weak and pale. With sorrow, 
too, he discovered that the braid of Amanda's hair, w^hich 
he W'Ore round his neck, w^as gone ; it was attached to his 
watch, of which he had been robbed during his swoon. 

Captain Laplata, from Cadiz, was bound for Havana, 
so that our traveller v/as neither turned from his course nor 
delayed by his adventure; in one respect it was favorable 
to his interest ; it proved the means of an acquaintance and 
intimacy w^ith his deliverer, which led, as wdll be shewn 
hereafter, to important results. 

The worthy Captain once resided in Havana, and was 
pleased to show him the town and give him much useful in- 
formation ; he also introduced him to several agreeable fami- 
lies, and Reginald was astonisbed at the degree of luxury 
and fashion w^hich prevailed amonoj the high classes, and at 
the magnificence of the churches, and that of many private 
mansions, where he was entertained in quite a princely style. 
But being impatient to wind up his business and return to 
Europe, he soon Lircd a " quilf ine,^^ a light cai'riage pecu- 



147 

liar to the country, and proceeded to his plantation, where, 
in the midst of overseers and a numerous horde of slaves, 
we shall leave him for the present, and hold intercourse 
with the other characters of our story. 

About four months after Reginald's departure froni Eng- 
land, Rosa Fitzgerald, who had matured into as graceful 
and lovely a woman as her sister, received and accepted the 
addresses of a young gentleman of fortune and genteel 
standing, whose father was a Spaniard. Mr. Deltavega 
married in early life a lady of Liverpool, and became a re- 
sident there. He was the head of an extensive mercantile 
establishment, and had amassed considerable Wealth. Hav- 
ihg fitted his only son, Francesco, to succeed him, he deter- 
mined to retire from business., and to begin his future holi- 
day by a visit to Cadiz, his native city. Thither, after the 
union of Rosa and Francesco, Mrs. Deltavega and the new 
married couple were to accompany him. and the latter to 
spend the remainder of the summer in travel before finally 
settling in Liverpool, to enjoy the sweets of connubial feli- 
city and domestic life. 

Amanda had heard bat twice from Reginald. IJis last 
letter mentioned that he intended to leave New- York im- 
mediately for Cuba, and should write, w^ithout delay, after 
reaching it ; but he had not done so, and she knew not even 
where to address him — consequently, all communication be- 
tween them had ceased, and she was so disturbed and de- 
pressed, and her health so evidently impairing from anxiety 
of mind, that her parents insisted on her joining the party to 
Spain, promising to forward, without delay, all packages 
that might arrive for her, while she w^ as absent. She yield- 
ed to their wishes, and, after the ordinary routine of calms 



148 

and storms, the voyage was accomplished in due time and 
safety. 

They found the city of Cadiz in great commotion — a 
gang of pirates had been captured and brought into port, 
and a crowd of soldiers and citizens were conducting them 
to prison. 

The Delta regas were soon established in comfortable 
quarters, and warmly greeted by relatives and friends. 
Time rolled tranquilly on w'ith all save Amanda — tidings 
from home brought none of her truant lover, and she grew 
more and more restless and unhappy. She thought he must 
be dead, or ill ; she could not, looiddnoi doubt his truth. 

In fine weather, Rosa and herself usually walked out of 
an afternoon : and though not Roman Catholics, they fre- 
quently went to the Cathedral at the hour of vespers, to 
listen to the strains of sacred music which then pealed 
through its aisles. 

One evening, while thus employed— '-sister.'' whispered 
Amanda, 'Svhat tender memories do those sweet and solemn 
notes revive ! tender and painful too — Oh! let us away! 
they oppress me^ and I feel as if some dire calamity was hang- 
ing over me. 'Tis folly, I acknowledge, to yield thus to 
superstition, yet I cannot resist its influence.'' 

And here we would ask, how is it that, between the spirit 
and the future a mysterious and strange communion does 
sorfietimes exist, which sways the strongest minds and sad- 
dens them with apprehensions of coming ill ? It is one of 
the secrets of nature that cannot be explained. 

The sisters quitted the church, and, after a short stroll, 
returned home. In the parlour, they found father Anselmo, 
a relation of Mr. Deltavega, sitting with the family, and 



149 

giving them an account of the execution of the pirates, 
which had taken place that morning. 

The good old man had been summoned to shrive one of 
them, and had received from him, as an offering to the vir- 
gin, a rich gold watch attached to a braid of auburn hair, 
and bearing the initials R. D. 

The penitent confessed that he had rifled it from the per- 
son of a young gentleman who was killed on board of an 
American vessel, which he and his accomplices had attack- 
ed and destroyed nine weeks previous to their own capture. 

As he finished speaking, father Anselmo drew forth the 
watch from the folds of his gown, and, no sooner did 
Amanda behold it, than she recognized it as Reginald's, and 
the hair chain as the tress she had bestowed on him at 
parting. "Now^ by that token of death^ are my mournful 
forebodings realized !" cried she, and fainted away ; a brain 
fever ensued, and for a lono; while her life was in dangler. 

Poor Rosa hung over her pillow night and day, and lis- 
tened, with tearful eyes, to her delerious lamentations. She 
insisted upon substituting her own watch as a votive gift, in 
lieu of her lover's, and kept that^ with the chain he had pre- 
sented her, in her bosom, and often covered each with kisses 
and tears. 

It was a melancholy period ; but close attention and care- 
ful nursing at length prevailed, and the sufferer began to re- 
gain consciousness and health. 

Oh I the fallacy of human hopes and earthly happiness ! 
Scarcely six months had elapsed since Amanda's heart beat 
high with both, and all seemed bright and fair— now, de- 
jected and careworn, to her the world appeared shrouded in 
darkness ; and now were hrr\^, though yet so young, 



150 

thoughts that banished sleep, affections withered in the bud, 
and sorrowful remembrances ! 

Change of air and scene was prescribed by her physician, 
and she accompanied Rosa and her husband in a tour through 
the South of Spain. 

Our scene must now change also — 'tis done — the curtain 
again rises, and lo ! the interior of a hovel, in an obscure street 
of New-York, and on a coarse, but clean bed, a w^oman lying 
apparently in the last stage of consumption. Her sunken 
and heavy eyes brighten, and o'er her palhd cheek a slight 
flush diffuses itself, as she listens to a youthful female who 
is sitting beside her, smoothing her path to death with words 
from Holy Writ ; those precious promises therein contained, 
of mercy and salvation to all who believe and repent^ that, 
'though their sins be as scarlet, they shall be made white as 
snow." 

The gentle girl la)^s dow^n the book, to administer nour- 
ishment to her dying charge, and as she turns round, the 
lovely countenance of Adelaide Danvers is revealed to us. 
Yes, it \s> she who thus performs the duties of charity, and 
seeks to assuage her own griefs by alleviating those of her 
fc'llow creatures, and to exchange her earthly idol for a 
Heavenly one ! A blessed balsam for a wounded heart ! 
and verily she found it so : for, although she could never 
entirely subdue her hopeless passion, and, therefore, never 
married, yet was her life, in after years, serene and almost 
happy, for it was devoted to piety and beneficence. 

Again must our curtain fall — again it rises and displays a 
more familiar scene ; the road to Cherwell cottage, and 
Reginald moving as rapidly over it as post horses can con- 
vey him. 

He has arrangred his West Indian affairs, re-crossed the 



151 

Atlantic, and is hurrying to his affianced bride. The chaise 
stops at the door — he alights and is about to enter the house, 
when an exclamation of rapture is heard within, and the 
next moment his arras encircle his sweet Amanda, who has 
flown to meet him. The bloom of health is once more on 
her cheek, and 'Hhe smile of contentment and love" in her 
soft blue eye. 

Perhaps our readers will not object to be informed of the 
occurrences which brought to pass this pleasing termination 
of what has hitherto been a gloomy tale. 

Shortly after the excursion through Spain, which proved 
less beneficial to the invalid than was anticipated, our old 
acquaintance. Captain Laplata. returned to Cadiz, and was 
invited to dine with Mr. Deltavega. In boyhood they were 
friends, but, since then, had not met before. 

When the ladies retired from the dinner table, they re- 
mained discoursing over their wine, and the Captain remark- 
ed upon the beauty and extreme dejection of Amanda, 
whereupon Mr. Deltavega related her touching history. 

When he concluded, the benevolent seaman replied, ^^How 
fortunate, my dear sir, that you have communicated to me 
these facts ! for I can meet them with others which will 
doubtless act like the elixir of life upon the withering heart 
of Miss Fitzgerald." 

He then detailed the circumstance of his encounter with 
the plundered vessel, his discovery and rescue of Reginald, 
and their subsequent association : and read aloud a letter 
which he had just received from him, stating that since they 
parted, he had suffered from a dangerous fever, but was 
convalescent, and, having satisfactorily C9mpleted his busi- 
ness, was on the point of embarking for England, where he 



152 

feared some misfortune awaited him, as he had had no reply 
to any of his letters since leaving New-York. 

The delight which this intelligence created, may well be 
imagined. How to impart it to Amanda in her present ner- 
vous state was a difficulty. 

Some writers maintain that sudden joy is harder to bear 
than sudden w^o ; and history avers that the messenger who 
brought to Athens the news of the victory at Marathon, died 
of extacy the instant after he had told the ^^glad tidings;'^ ne- 
vertheless, \ve aredoubtfijl of the theory in question, and opine 
that the poor fellow's death onight have been the result of 
over exertion in his vocation. Be that as it may, it was 
deemed expedient not to inform Amanda of her lover's con- 
tinued existence, till Rosa had prepared her for the blissful 
revelation in the gentlest manner, and an unexpected auxil- 
iary in the form of a dream favored her design. 

On entering her sister's chamber (according to her wont) 
the next morning, she found her sitting by the window, with 
her head resting on her folded arms. ^'Dear Amanda, what 
is the matter?" inquired Rosa; ^^I hope you are not ill, 
though I perceive you are paler than usual." "No, my 
kind Rosa, T am not ill ; but surely I bear a charmed life, 
or could I thus linger in this \veary world, a prey to such 
wretchedness ? Oh ! Rosa, what a blessed dream was mine 
last night ! Alas ! that it was but a dream ! Methought 
that the dead, to whom my fate is linked, was restored to 
life — that he had been saved from shipwreck, and borne to 
a beautiful anil fertile island ; that we were sailing hence for 
England, and stopped at this island to procure water and 
fruits; there we discovered him, and, amazed and trans- 
ported, I uttered a scream which aroused me, and I awoke 
to bitter disappointment and vain regret." 



153 

Rosa listened in mute astonishment ; she was not super- 
stitious, yet the remarkable coincidence of the dream with 
the events she had to disclose^ made her almost believe that 
Providence had sent the vision to prepare her sister^s mind 
for the happiness that was in store for her. 

Tenderly putting aside the ringlets which clustered round 
her brow", and looking earnestly and somewhat archly in her 
face, she said, ''suppose, Amanda, that this extatic dream 
should be realized, could you support the transition from wo 
to w^eal, from misery to gladness?" Amanda started, and, 
regarding her intently, was struck with the expression of 
her countenance ; '^Rosa, Rosa,'' she exclaimed, 'Svhat cZo 
your words and manner imply ? Rosa, you would not, you 
could not venture to trifle with feelings so sacred as mine !'' 
Rosa was silent ; but drew from her pocket Reginald's let- 
ter to Captain Laplata, unfolded and placed it in her sister': 
hand. With convulsive grasp and throbbing heart shi 
seized it, read it, and, throwing herself upon her knee. . 
poured forth thanks to Heaven for its mercy. Then, com- 
pletely overcome, she wept and sobbed aloud. 

When this burst of feeling was past, relieved by it, she 
became more composed, and Rosa called in her husband and 
his parents, who added their congratulations to her's. 

The embarkation of the happy party for England speedily 
ensued, and they arrived at Cherwell cottage just a week 
before Delacy made his appearance there, as above de- 
scribed. 

Satisfactory explanations soon took place between the re- 
junited lovers. Reginald had w^ritten several times; but 
^here being no regular mail to Havana from his plantation, 
which was situated far in the interior, his letters had, doubt- 



154 

less, miscarried. Illness, too, had prevented his writing for 
a long while. 

The episode of Adelaide Danvers, he did not dare to touch 
upon ; nor ever could, till long after he w^as a married man, 
and had heard of her w^ell-doing and prosperity. Amanda's 
excuses we need not detail, as they are already known to our 
readers 

A merry wedding at Mr. Fitzgerald's added its festivi- 
ties to those of Christmas, in the month of December suc- 
ceeding these events. The names of the bride and bride- 
groom may easily be surmised ; and a handsome couple they 
were, as they stood before the clergyman to be joined in 
holy wedlock : she m her white crape and roses ; he m his 
blue coat and snowy vest; her sole ornament, a rich gold 
chain ; his, a watch fastened to a braid of glossy hair — 
which same valuables were carefully preserved and be- 
queathed to their descendants, with an interesting legend 
concerning them. 

And now, as ^S-iU's well that ends well," we trust our 
story, with its happy denouement, will prove satisfactory to 
those who may chance to peruse it ; and concluding, after 
the manner of a celebrated author, we bid them a friendly 
adieu. 



ILIA, THE HIGH PRIESTESS. 



The principal events of tliis story are historical ; the rest is fie-*- 
tion, and the character of Brennns has been moulded to suit the 
writer's fancy. 



The (lay waS resplendent with sunshine, and the streets 
of Rome were thronged with a gay and busy crowd. From 
the balconies and windows of the houses, hung draperies of 
yellow or crimson silk^ bright colored carpets and festoons 
of flowers ; each decoration more or less costly, simple or 
gaudy, according to the means and tastes of the inmates. 

It Was the anniversary of the '' Vestalia/' or " Feast of 
Vesta/' and was to be celebrated with the magnificence and 
banqiietings usual on such occasions. 

At the bead of a band of virgins, clad in snow-white vests 
and flowing niantles of purple hue, walked Ilia, their high 
priestess, whose gentle dignity and supreme beauty riveted 
the admiration of many spectators. Her dress was like that 
of her companions^ save a circlet of gold which graced her 
brow and reflected the sun's rays as they shone upon it, 
Radiating them like the mystic glory round the crown of a 
saint. In her hands she bore a richly embossed silver urn, 
wreathed with ivy, and containing an offering to her god- 
dess. She was preceded by a lictor, carrying the Roman 
fasces. 

The office of Vestal was very ancient, and is supposed to 
have been instituted by Eneas, King of Troy. Ilia, the 
mother of Romulus and Remus, held it for a time, but, vio- 
lalrhg her vestal oath, she was doomed to be buried alive/ 



156 

Iliaj the high priestess of our story, was called after the 
maternal parent of the royal twins, and early dedicated to 
the service of the temple. At ten years old, her faultless 
face and form attracted the notice of the high priest whose 
duty it was to supply vacancies in the vestal train ; and he 
induced her parents to consecrate her to that holy vocation. 
Being poor, and having other children, they were glad thus 
to provide for their little daughter, and to promote her, as 
they thought, to honor and happiness ; for in those days it 
was considered a blessing for any young girl if she could 
obtain admittance into the corps of Vestals virgins, their 
privileges v/ere so great. Every luxury was furnished them 
at the public expense, and they were treated with the utmost 
deference when and wherever they appeared; and as above 
ciescribedj a lictor, bearing the Roman fasces, or consuls^ 
rodsy always marched before them : the consuls themselves, 
as well as the people, reverentially made way for them as 
they passed along. If they met a criminal going to execu- 
tion, they had the power of pardoning him, provided the 
meeting was accidental; and in trials, their word was 
deemed sufficient, without an oath to confirm it — indeed 
they were frequently appointed to act as arbiters in cases of 
difficulty or doubt. 

Behind the band of virgins came another, formed of the 
chief ladies of Rome. They were also clothed in w^hite. 
and proceeded with downcast eyes, and uncovered heads anj 
feet, slowly threading the streets of the city leading to ther 
Fane they sought. On reaching it, the procession stopped ; 
the solemn music, which had sounded from various instru- 
ments in rich accord during its progress, ceased ; the flov;er- 
scattering multitude separated, and in silence looked on. 
Ilia ascended the steps of the temple, and entered its lofty 



157 

portal ; two and two her vestals followed, and for some 
minutes prostrated themselves before the altar w^here 
flickered the sacred flame ; then, as if impelled by one intui- 
tive feeling, the fair worshippers arose, and Ilia, in accents 
sweet and clear, chanted the invocation and deposited the 
costly gift upon the shrine. An anthem, sung by melodi- 
ous voices in full concert, and the burning of incense, con- 
cluded the ceremonies ; after which the crowd quickly 
dispersed, and the vestals repaired to a sumptuous feast that 
awaited them, where the beautiful Iha presided, and inno- 
cent hilarily prevailed. But it was of short duration — 
fleeting as the brightness of a summer sky, when suddenly 
obscured by a storm-brewing thunder cloud. The banquet 
was not half over, when an attendant, pale with aff*right, 
entered the hall and proclaimed that the sacred fire they 
had left upon the altar was extinguished. Immediately, 
consternation and horror succeeded pleasure and mirth. 
The fair revellers rushed frantically forth ; the populace 
joined them on their way, and lamentations and cries ot 
" to the Temple, to the Temple V' rent the air ; for the ex- 
tinction of the holy fire was regarded as a sure prognostic 
of calamity to the state, and always created dismay among 
all ranks of the Roman people. 

Prayers and libations were offered to Jupitor Pistor, and 
the sacred flame rekindled with rays from the sun, by means 
of glasses kept for the purpose, and all was again outwardly 
tranquil. But gloomy forebodings continued to disturb the 
minds of many, and, ere the year had run its course, were 
but too fully realized. The close of that year saw Rome 
in the power of her enemies ; her temples and palaces in 
ashes, and her inhabitants blockaded in the capitol, where 

M 



158 

they had taken refuge, and fortified themselves within its 
ramparts. 

At the period about which we are wTiting, the north of 
Italy was peopled by hordes of that fierce and gigantic race, 
the Gauls, headed by a bold chieftain, Brennus, whose suc- 
cess in war had spread alarm through the country. He w^as 
assaulting Clusium, the capitol of Etruria ; but, incensed at 
the conduct of some Roman ambassadors, he abandoned the 
siege of that city and led his army to Rome. On his way 
he encountered the Roman legions by the river Allia, and a 
battle ensued, in w^hich, as usual, he was victorious. The 
news of this battle and its results w^ere soon carried to Rome 
by fugitives from tlie scene of carnage ; and as the Gauls, 
whom conquest had rendered careless, loitered to plunder 
the camp of their adversaries and divide their booty, many 
of the Romans had time to save themselves by flight, and 
others to secure themselves in the citadel and prepare for 
resistance. 

The vestals concealed under ground most of the sacred 
utensils in their charge, and fled with the remainder and the 
holy fire to the tow^n of Ccere, which they reached in safety 
after much exertion and fatigue — all save Ilia. Seized with 
sudden illness, she was compelled to crave shelter in a shep- 
herd's hut, where her companions left her. They would 
have remained to share her danger, but she urged them on. 
" Fly, fly, my beloved friends,'' she cried ; '• be faithful to 
your solemn trust, and leave me to the fate the gods may. 
destine for me. Preserve the sacred fire from the touch of 
the profane, and stay not your efforts till you have placed it 
in security," Accustomed to obey her mandates, they has- 
tened away. 

The kind shepherd arid his wife rendered her all the 



159 

assistance in their power, and provided lier with a pallet of 
dried leaves in a small back room, the only retired spot their 
habitation afforded. In a few days she recovered suffi- 
ciently to arise and partake of their frugal repasts of brown 
bread and goats' milk. At one of these, she thus addressed 
them : " My kind hosts, as soon as ray strength permits, I 
shall leave you, to rejoin my companions at Coere, and shall 
probably never see you again ; but never will I forget your 
generous care and hospitality, and my prayers shall daily 
ascend to the gods for blessings on you, and rest assured 
that they will reward you for having succored and protected 
one whose life is consecrated to their service." 

She had scarcely uttered these words, when a strain of 
martial music was heard, and, on looking out, they beheld a 
part of the Gaulic army advancing. They were all both 
wshocked and terrified ; yet there was no occasion for fear, 
Brennus, in his march to Rome, did not molest the quiet 
inhabitants of the country, saying that he had no cause for 
anger against them ; that to chastise the Romans for their 
insolence to him, through their ambassadors, was alone his 
object : so, as corps after corps passed orderly along, the 
trembling inmates of the cabin felt their courage revive. 

The army was still moving by, tramp, tramp, tramp, 
when a warrior knocked at the door of the hut : it was 
opened to him, and he asked for a wrapping for his hand, 
which was wounded and bleeding profusely, though the 
gash was not a fresh one ; but an accident had re-opened it 
and rendered it very painful. With the usual benevolence 
of woman, Ilia instantly tore off a portion of her tunic, and 
with it bandaged the wound ; and as she twined the strip 
of muslin round and round it, the warrior was struck with 
her uncommon beauty, and gazed upon her, entranced ; and 



160 

his atlmiration was mingled with wonderj at seeing so ra- 
diant a being the inhabitant of so mean an abode. 

After the humane task was completed, he thanked her and 
said : '' Beautiful maiden ! in return for thy great kindness 
and condescension, is there no service I can render unto thee? 
no boon w^hich thou wouldst demand of Brennus, whose heart 
beats with gratitude for thy ready and benevolent aid, and 
yields due homage to thy surpassing charms?'^ 

Ilia blushed, and with downcast eyes replied : " Noble 
chieftain ! much thou over-ratest the small assistance I have 
been able to afford thee in thy need : none but the most un- 
pitying would have refused it to a fellow creature : yet will 
I accept the gracious offer thou makest to repay the deed. 
Behold, before thee, the high priestess of Vesta, whom sud- 
den illness has separated from her companions in their flight 
from Rome to Coere, whither they have gone for refuge from 
the fearful numbers thou art leading on. Grant me a safe 
conduct to them ; and when with thy victorious bands thou 
hast taken possession of our fallen city, spare, oh spare, for 
Ilia's sake, the shrine and temple of her virgin goddess !'' 
The request was readily granted ; " but first, fair lady," 
said the chief. '^ thou must accompany me to Rome, where 
I pledge to thee mine honor that thou shalt be treated with 
every respect and consideration, and that, when I have seen 
my followers there encamped, I myself will escort thee in 
safety to Coere." 

A mysterious influence impelled Ilia to consent, and a 
litter was formed, in which she placed herself — first having 
taken a grateful and affectionate leave of the good old couple 
who had so befriended her. The litter was borne along on 
the shoulders of four stalwart soldiers ; and their commander 
walked by its side, watching over the lovely burthen it 



161 

contained^ with all the care of a lover : for lo ! the proud 
conqueror of the Roman legions had become an easy captive 
to Lovers bewitching power, and it was this sudden infatua- 
tion that instigated him to carry Ilia to Rome before taking 
her to Coarej hoping, by a course of devoted attentions; to 
win her heart. Oh, Beauty, how potent is thy sway ! and 
yet, oh Beauty, how frail thou art ! Alas ! for Ilia : little 
recked she of the fascinations of magnanimity and valor, 
combined with the most flattering and winning devotion, 
and such did Brennus employ to gain her affections. Placed 
in a gorgeous tent, and supplied with every luxury the 
times afforded, she w-as daily visited by him, and always 
treated with the most tender respect. Unconsciously her 
heart became enthralled, and by degrees she not only ceased 
to urge the fulfilment of his promise, but lent a willing ear 
to the confession of his passion. Soon she madly returned 
it ; consented to be his bride, and they were joined in w^ed- 
lock. Thus, like the illustrious matron w^hose r^ame she 
bore, she broke her vestal oath ; and by the laws of the 
state, forfeited her life, and, what was worse, by those of 
conscience, her self-esteem. Still, Brennus played the hus- 
band's part so kindly, that for a while she experienced a 
degree of happiness unknown to her before ; yet remorse 
soon blighted it, and rendered her miserable and fearful. 
Often, when the veil of night had fallen, and she slumbered 
on her pillow by his side, dark dreams would disturb her 
repose, and, starting wildly, she would exclaim : ^^ Brennus, 
my husband, save me ! save me ! the avengers of niy perfidy 
are near; the executors of Vesta's wrath are kindling a 
funeral pile for me, her traitorous priestess !" Then would 
the chieftain awake and sooth his beloved to slepp again, 

as does a fond mother her ofTj^pring. 

m2 



162 

Months elapsed, and the wasted form and pallid cheek of 
Ilia plainly indicated the harassing conflicts of her mind. 
At length^she could bear them no longer — Rome lay in 
ashes before her, and daily she heard the discussion of plans 
for effecting the conquest and. destruction of the capitol, 
which still resisted the assaults of the Gauls. Her beloved 
temple, with its desecrated shrine, was a heap of ruins : 
notwithstanding the strict orders of Brennus that it should 
be preserved, as he had promised her, it was destroyed in 
the conflagration that consumed nearly the whole of the 
city. Pondering over these disastrous events one morning 
as she sat alone, dejected and care-worn, an irrepressible 
desire, a high resolve, took possession of her soul — it was 
to expiate her crime by the sacrifice of her passion and the 
idol which had occasioned it — to fly from Brennus and re- 
tire into the bosom of her family, to spend the remainder of 
her life in penitence and prayer. Falling on her knees and 
clasping' her beauteous hands, she ardently implored the 
forgiveness and assistance of the deity she had offended, 
and just as she had finished her supplication, a dazzling 
sun-beam burst through a cloud that had, till then, obscured 
the heavens : regarding this as an omen that her petition 
was favorably received, she arose with a lighter heart and 
prepared to meet her husband, whose well known step she 
heard approaching. By a violent effort she stifled her 
emotion and received him with her usual affectionate greet- 
ing, though at sight of him her spirit again sunk within 
her, under the consciousness of the agonizing course she 
had determined to pursue. 

Brennus, himself, was gloomy, having just returned from 
an unsuccessful attack upon the town of Ardea, which was 
defended by the celebrated Roman General and Dictator, 



163 

Camillus ; for the Gauls were so long encamped within 
and around the walls of Rome, that they grew tired of be^ 
ing stationary, and in separate hordes made frequent in-f 
cursions on the neighboring states. Poor Ilia, perceiving 
Brennus thus melancholy, cast self aside and endeavoured 
to cheer him ; yet, though distressed for hitn, she could not 
but rejoice at the escape and safety of those who w^ere of 
her own nation ; and it was such contending and exciting 
sensations as these, not unfrequently called forth, whjch 
combined with the reproofs of conscience in embittering 
her existence, and imperceptibly loosening the cords of life, 

Several weeks had passed since the foregoing occurrence; 
the night was dark and boisterous, and the wind, in fitful 
and violent gusts, swayed the branches of the largest treeg 
as if they had been mere saplings. On the banks of the 
Tyber, not far from the walls of Rome, stood an isolated 
building of brick ; it was moss-grown, and apparently the 
remnant of a strong tower which had been erected for gome 
defensive purpose in former times. This edifice had long 
been the habitation of the bat and the owl 5 but on this 
stormy evening its inmates were two girls and a youth, in 
the guise of minstrels. A fire blazed in the long forsaken 
hearth, and as the heat from the faggots ascended the 
capacious chimney, the ill-omened birds of night fluttered 
from their scorching nests. The noise blanched the cheeks 
of the maidens, and they pressed closer to their protector ; 
but soon discovering the cause of it, their alarm subsided. 

Marcia and Lucia, the sisters of Ilia, and Fabius, her 
youngest brother, were they who thus sought shelter from 
the tempest ; while around them, in the gloom, lights 
twinkled from the tents of the Gauls, and the hoarse voices 



164 

of the sentinels could be distinguished in the transient 
pauses of the storm. 

The party arranged themselves as comfortably as their 
dreary abode allowed — dispelling its chilling damps by 
keeping up a large fire with liberal supplies of wood, which 
Fabius had gathered on their arrival, before the rain began. 
A log sufficed for a seat, and, luckily for them, some one 
had deposited in a corner of the tower, a quantity of clean 
straw", probably for forage, of which they formed a bed, 
and covering themselves with their cloaks, fatigue soon 
acted upon them like a soporific, and they slept soundly 
till dawn. 

The elements expended their fury during the night, and 
the sun rose bright and clear. Fabius was the first to 
aw^ake, and while his sisters continued to repose, he re- 
vived the dying em^bers on the hearth, and adding more 
faggots, kindled a cheering flame ; he then aroused them, 
and opening a small wallet of provisions, they partook of a 
plentiful breakfast and proceeded on their way. 

'' Who goes there V^ demanded a sentinel as they saun- 
tered by. '^ Three wandering minstrels, w^ho would fain 
seek employment in Rome/^ was their response ; and in 
this manner they w^ere repeatedly hailed, yet permitted to 
advance, until they reached one of the gates of the city, 
where the surly guards refused them entrance. '• Avaunt ! 
ye baggage,'^ they cried, ^^ w^e want none of your whining 
here !'^ and thus coarsely repulsed, they retreated. 

^^Well!" exclaimed Marcia, '• this is a rebuff I little 
anticipated — I thought min$trelsy w^as welcomed every 
where. '^ 

'• So it generally is/' answered Fabius. ^- but these horri- 



165 

ble barbarians have no relish for any thing tender or re- 
fined." 

'^ Perhaps," observed Lucia, '' one of our glees will 
soften their gruff nature, and serve as a charm to get us in; 
at least let us try the experiment." So they joined in a 
trio, seating themselves on the turf, and accompanying 
their voices with their guitars. It proved a happy thought 
of Lucia's ; for, while they were singing, the Porta Capena 
was thrown open to permit the passage of a cortege, in the 
midst of which was the chief of the Gauls. Ever on the 
alert to promote the enjoyment of Ilia, his ear no sooner 
caught the sweet sounds that were flowing from the lips 
and instruments of the peasants, than he stopped and dis- 
patched one of his train to bring them to him. 

^'Minstrels/' said the messenger, " Brennus, our com- 
mander, desires your approach." 

On hearing that dreaded name, the maidens instantly 
arose, and, with mingled hope and trepidation, followed 
their brother, who gladly obeyed the behest. The warrior, 
after asking them a few questions, which Fabius answered, 
ordered them to join his retinue and follow him. The 
cortege halted in front of a lofty tent, surmounted by a 
crown and guarded by two sentinels, slowly pacing their 
rounds. Brennus entered it alone, and in a few minutes the 
minstrels were summoned again to his presence. They 
were astonished at the splendor they beheld within ; the 
interior was festooned with hangings of scarlet damask, 
edged with broad silver fringes ; couches and smaller seats 
were placed around, decorated in like manner ; and there 
were marble tables bearing candelabras of massive gold, 
and richly sculptured vases and urns, of Etruscan shape, 
in many of which bloomed the choicest flowers, that filled 



1G6 

the air with pleasant odors. Beneath a magnificent canopy 
sat Brennus and a beautiful lady, in whom, to their utter 
amazement, they recognized their sister, although she no 
longer wore the sacerdotal dress they had been accustomed 
to see her in, on festal occasions, in days gone by. The 
simple white vest and tunic, once emblematical of her truth 
and holiness, were exchanged for a mantle of blue velvet 
and a boddice ornamented with pearls and brilliants ; a 
bandeau of these also adorned her hair, w^hich was looped 
up behind with a large gold bodkin, sparkling with diamonds. 
Two female attendants w^aited near her. She looked, if 
possible, more lovely than ever, though very pale and very 
sad, except, now and then, when addressing her husband, 
her countenance would be radiant with a smile of affection; 
a gleam of pleasure as evanescent as bright. Ilia had 
not seen her sisters and brother since they were children : 
it was. therefore, not surprising that she did not know 
them when they so unexpectedly stood before her, greatly 
altered in stature and face. They remembered her^ because 
they had often gaxed on her with admiration and pride 
while she was officiating as High Priestess in the Temple, 
totally unaware of their being among those who were 
present. 

Subsequently their father had removed his family to a 
cottage in the Appenines, where he cultivated a vineyard, 
and his wife plied the spindle and shuttle for support, as- 
sisted by their children. There a vague report had reached 
them, that Ilia was a captive in the Gaulic camp ; and Lucius 
Albinus, a plebeian, who had overtaken the vestals, after 
their parting with her, on the road to Ccere, and charitably 
given them seats in the wagon in which he was transport- 
ing his own flimily from the enemy, confirmed the startling 



167 

intelligence, by relating the circumstances of her being 
siezed with i:suclden illness and left behind in the shepherd's 
cot. The news deeply afliicted her parents ; and the good 
old TurnuS; her father, unable to attempt the journey him- 
self, resolved to send his two remaining daughters and his 
youngest son, who^ during the summer seasons, perambu- 
lated the country as minstrels, to supplicate Brennus for 
her release from bondage. ^'^ Go, my children," said he 
to them^ '^ and be of good courage — a father's blessing at- 
tends you ; and may the gods grant you their protection, 
and aid you to accomplish your pious design. Should you 
succeed in finding your unfortunate sister, then seek Bren- 
nus, and appeal to him for her deliverance ; in him valour 
and clemency, we hear, are united, and if so, surely he will 
listen to your prayers, Alas ! alas ! perhaps (oh ! torturing 
thought !) our darling Ilia, once so highly blest and honored, 
is now the victim of insult and cruelty." 

The travellers departed, and had toiled over a weary dis- 
tanccj on the night they reached the lonely tower, when the 
storm suddenly arose and compelled them to take shelter 
within it till morning, when they hoped to gain admittance 
into Rome, and information respecting Ilia and an inter- 
view with Brennus. We have seen how Fortune favoured 
their plans, and threw them in his way. On entering the 
royal tent and discovering their sister, their first impulse 
was to rush to her arms and make themselves known ; but 
a natural timidity, in the presence of the chieftain, restained 
the maidens, w^hile feelings of a very different nature in- 
fluenced the youth. 

After playing a variety of Italian songs and tunes, they 
were liberally rewarded and dismissed, with directions to 
return njrain on the morrow. A subaltern conducted them 



168 

to the quarters allotted to them by the orders of Brennus ; 
and when he had left them, Lucia exclaimed, ^^ Why so 
moody, brother Fabius, when there is such cause for re- 
joicing at the success of our errand ? And then (only 
to think of it ! !) to have found our sweet sister no captive 
as we anticipated, but enjoying all the honors of a Queen!" 

'^ I cannot believe they afford her enjoyment y^ answered 
Marcia, '^ for the whole time we were playing, her face was 
the picture of wo ; and did you not observe how often her 
eyes were suffused with tears V^ 

"She deserves to be unhappy," cried Fabius indignantly; 
^^ /feel no pity for her. Were she an unwilling prisoner 
in the power of the hated conqueror of our people, I would 
gladly yield my life for her rescue ; but to behold what she 
isj and to remember what she was, what she has forsaken, 
and for lohom^ excites my contempt for her, and increases 
my detestation of her destroyer !" 

This sudden outbreak of passion overwhelmed the young 
girls with astonishment. . Fabius was assuming quite a new 
character ; and he, a mere stripling, who was ever before 
thought gentle almost to effeminacy, now exhibited a de- 
gree of violence that alarmed them. The truth w^as, the 
latent pride and patriotism of his bosom were aroused at 
finding his sister, as he thought^ a renegade from her faith, 
and the wife of her country's foe ; and from that moment 
he determined, by some means, to separate them. In vain, 
that night, he courted sleep — rest, he could not ; so leaving 
his couch, he walked out to inhale the fresh air. A faint 
breeze was stirring, and the myriads of white tents glim- 
mering in the star-light, looked like so many massive sepul- 
chres. 

While meditating on the subject that annoyed his mind, 



169 

he descried a light issuing from the royal pavilion, and the 
forms of two warriors, who appeared in earnest converse, 
and slowly moved towards the spot where he stood. As 
they advanced he screened himself from view, behind a 
large tree over-hanging their path, and heard enough of 
their discourse to feel assured that there was to be a secret 
attack made on the capitol ere morning. 

^^ Ha ! ha !'' laughed Fabius bitterly to himself, '' the 
gods favor my revenge, and furnish me with the means of 
carrying it into execution. To the Tarpeian rock will I 
hasten, and climb again the steep and tortuous path I once 
ascended in my boyhood, to prove my courage to the 
youngsters who were with me, and dared rae to the feat. 
'Tis known to few, and now shall avail me to mount the 
dizz)^ height once more, and give warning to my country- 
men of the wily purpose of our foes.'' 

Thither he quickly turned his steps, but to his amazement 
and agony he found he was too late ! The Gauls were 
already tugging up the very path he sought. On, on, they 
mounted, clinging to whatever shrub, or projecting stone, 
or crag, they could lay hokl of. Oh ! horror ! — the fore- 
most of them gain the top ! They are on the ramparts, 
and about to slay the faithless, sleeping guards ; when, 
wonder of wonders ! a flock of half-starved geese, kept 
near Juno's temple, utter shrill cries, arouse the drowsy 
watch, and defeat the bold project of the invaders ! The 
intrepid Consul, Manlius, with other brave Romans,* flies to 
the rescue — the Gauls are beaten headlong ctown the preci- 
pice, and the capitol is saved. 

In the midst of the tumult and slaughter I^'abius was 
hurrying back to his sisters, when the sight of a group of 
figures bearing a lifeless form, which he but fob plainly re- 

N 



170 

cognized, transfixed him v»uth grief and horror. It was 
that of Ilia ! Awakened from slumber by the noise and 
commotion in the camp, (for Brennus had kept the intend- 
ed attack a secret from her.) and missing her husband from 
her side, she sprung up and ran wildly from her tent, call- 
ing piteously upon him, and followed by her affrighted at- 
tendants, who in vain endeavoured to calm her agitation. 
A soldier met them and informed them that Brennus was 
killed ; he was mistaken, the chieftain was unscathed, but 
the shock proved too great for her shattered nerves — she 
fell to the earth and expired I 

Thus ended the short and sad career of the beautiful 
High Priestess ; she was but nineteen. With sorrowing 
hearts the minstrels returned to their distant mountain 
home, and imparted to their family the mournful tidings — 
yet not before the expulsion of the bereaved and unhappy 
Brennus and his army by Camillus, who became the re- 
storer of Rome and the deliverer of his country. 



REMINISCENCES OF A TRAVELLER. 



NUMBER I. 



" What a delightful day for roving !'' I exclaimedj on 
opening my eyes one brilliant morning, and beholding the 
golden sun-beams illuminating our pleasant room. '-Awake, 
awake, Ismelda, my sweet companion, and let 's be going." 
We were quickly dressed, and on our way with a party o^ 
friends to the villa Doria-Pamphili. Oh, the exhilarating 
month of October ! how we enjoyed our walk, and greeted 
with lightsome hearts the flowers and breezes which regaled 
us at every step. (Breezes which re-galed us — a tolerable 
pun ; but, really, I did not intend to make one.) 

We soon reached the villa, for it is but three-fourths of a 
mile from Rome. Its grounds are extensive and magnifi- 
cent, and peculiarly interesting from the numbers of ancient 
tombs, inscriptions and statues scattered about ; above all, 
from some excavated catacombs within its precincts. Sur- 
rounding every apartment of these catacombs, are rows of 
small arches, each of which encloses a cinerary urn in aper- 
jfect state, although centuries have elapsed since it was 
deposited in its sombre niche. As we surveyed these me- 
morable antiquities, that solemn fiat — ^'Dust thou art, and 
to dust thou shalt return" — came forcibly to mind ; for here 
the good, the brave, the beautiful, the proud, the wicked, 
reduced to heaps of earth, painfully illustrate its power and 
truth. I thought, too, of the probable struggles of many of 



172 

them for that alluring and deceiving meteor, worldly fame ! 
What availed their eflForts? Here, unknown, repose their 
ashes, while their virtues or their crimes, their very names^ 
like their frail bodies, are buried in oblivion. Happy those 
w^hose wishes soared beyond these mortal scenes, and sought 
a surer friend in Heaven ! 

My ruminations w^ere interrupted by a summons to share 
the rural breakfast of fruit, milk and biscuit, w4th w^hichwe 
had provided ourselves. On this luxurious domain are arti- 
ficial cascades and grottoes, fountains of every description, 
an amphitheatre, and a superb lake. Seated on its borders, 
we partook of our repast, and, in defiance of sentiment and 
romance, did it ample justice — thanks to our early pro- 
menade and Italian zephyrs ! Vegetation prospers long in 
so bland a climate ; and on the 9th of October, 1827, we 
rambled through verdant thickets, and tripped over turf 
enamelled wath flowers ! 

While we w^ere in the amphitheatre, an old man, who 
acted as cicerone, slipped, unperceived by us, into a closet, 
behind a marble figure representing a shepherd blowing his 
flute, and turned a wheel ; immediately (as if the statue of 
Memnon had been transported from Egypt) dulcet sounds 
issued from that before us, accompanied by the murmur of a 
hundred little water spouts W'hich sprung from the ground 
like magic, played while the music continued, and wuth it 
gradually melted away. 

Among the various inhabitants of the poultry yard w-ere 
snow-white pea-fowls. They were not comparable in beauty 
of plumage to those of the usual colors, but they strutted 
about with quite as much vanity. Two buildings, in the 
form of a miniature temple and tower, afford shelter to them 
and their feathery companions when necessary. 



173 , 

The interior of the villa does not correspond with the 
decorations without. We were surprised at its plainness, 
its coarse brick floors and faded; ordinary furniture. Some 
ancient chandeliers, however, were remarkable, and we ad- 
mired several of its numerous old paintings and mutilated 
statues. From the roof vre enjoyed a fine view of Rome 
and its environs, and quite feasted our eyes upon an adjoin- 
ing grove of stately pines : they told of ^' dear native home.'^ 
The villa occupies the site of the Emperor Galba's gardens, 
and was constructed in the sixteenth century for Prince 
Pamphili, by Alexander Algardi, a distinguished architect 
and sculptor of Bologna. 

The present princess Doria is a beautiful creature, of ma- 
jestic mien, and noted for her charity and religious zeal* 
During the celebration of the holy week, we witnessed the 
Avashing of the pilgrims in the establishment appropriated 
to the females ; and there we saw her bending over a pail 
of water and bathing the feet of an aged crone, with the 
humility of a Magdalen. She is exceedingly popular^ and 
proves how lovely piety is in woman. It is carried to su- 
perstitious excess by both sexes in Italy. Shrines, dedi- 
cated to the virgin Mary, adorn every road-side, and are 
seldom destitute of votaries kneeling before them, '^ telling 
their beads,'' and imploring her protection and favor; to 
conciHate w^hich, and to evince their devotion, even the 
poverty-stricken will spend their last mite in purchasing a 
chaplet of flowers or a waxen heart for her brow or bosom. 

Protestants often smile at what they term Ro?naii Catho- 
lic credulity ; yet it is a blessed thing to possess such ardor 
and faith as we daily observed among the lowest ranks, 
producing content and cheerfulness, although common sense 

and ir]dustry were the consequent sacrifice; and that such 

n2 



174 

was not always the result, the following incident will prove. 

I learnt it from Mrs. , and detail it, as nearly as I can, 

in her own words : 

'^ While travelling through Tuscany, we were attracted, 
one day, by the interesting appearance of a young peasant, 
who diligently whirled her spindle as she presided over a 
flock df goats. Her garments were coarse and much worn, 
biit'^cleaW; and the countenance of the blooming girl so 
intelligent and prepossessing, that we were induced to be- 
stow on her a trifle, and enquire about her parentage and 
situation. ' They call me Teresa,' she replied ; ' and the 
madonna takes care of me, for I have neither father nor 
mother. They died while I was an infant; and I do not 
i^vcn know what were their names. A poor woman had 
charge of me, but she treated me cruelly ; and as soon as I 
was old enough to work, I ran away from her. In my dis- 
tress, I prayed fervently to the madonna ; she heard me, 
and moved the heart of a lady to have pity on my forlorn 
condition, and give me a home and employment. I still 
live with her, for she is a good mistress — gives me plenty of 
bread and grapes to eat, and never beats me. At night I 
sleep in her barn, and in the day I tend her goats and spin 
flax.' After hearing this recital, we offered her more 
money : she was in raptures — kissed our hands as we cast 
it into her apron, and exclaimed, ^ never did I expect to be 
so rich ! Now^ I can buy a crown for the madonna, and go 
to mass and pray for blessings on my generous benefac- 
tresses.' Happy Teresa ! The madonna did not forsake 
her. Years afterwards, we met her in the same neighbor- 
hood, neatly dressed and the picture of contentment and 
health." 



17J 

NUMBER II. 



Our visit to the crater of Vesuvius proved less fatiguing 
than we anticipated. After an early breakfast, one morning 
in 18 — , we proceeded from Naples to Portici, (four miles 
distant,) in carriages, and there devoted an hour to Hercu- 
laneura. Immediately over this buried city stand the 
villages of Portici and Resina ; and to ensure their safety, 
by strengthening their foundations, the excavations beneath 
them have been so filled up, that only a very limited space 
remains to explore ; and an extensive theatre is the sole 
building left exposed, to gratify modern research or curi- 
osity. Of this, the stage, orchestra and seats are of 
stone, and in full preservation. In one of the lobbies we 
plainly discerned, on the hardened lava, an impression of 
the lips, nose and eyes of a face, probably that of some 
statue. To enter this nether region, w^e traversed the cel- 
lar of a house, and passing through a low door- way within 
it, followed a winding and narrow passage, which descended 
gradually into the earth and terminated in the vestibule of 
the theatre. Our w^axen torches cast a yellow glare over 
every countenance, and added to the solem^nity of the scenq 
— it was something like the procession of ghosts in " Mac- 
beth." Danger, too, seemed impending, as we listened to 
the thunderinor roll of carriages in the streets above out 
heads ; so that we were Mn to finish our tour of inspection 
as expeditiously as possible, and to return to sun-shine and 
our inn. There, both annoyance and amusement awaitecj 
us — at least a dozen stout Lazzaroni greeted our approach 
— each had a donkey saddled and bridled, which he urged 
us to take to convey us to Yesuvlus, and loudly proclaimed! 



176 

its merits and the excellence of its gear, at the same time 
decrying the property of his comrades. ^^ Oh/^ said one, 
'^ mine is the strongest, the swiftest, the surest ! and the 
saddle is almost new — there is none here to compare with 
it — and see^ it is the only one lined with red, (a favorite 
color wdth the Neapolitans,) — the others are scarcely jit to 
carry a Signora.'^ In fact I thought they would have 
pulled us to pieces ; for, in their eagerness to obtain em- 
ployment, they actually siezed hold of our dresses and arms. 
At lenojth we contrived to make a selection, and moved off 
in cavalcade, amid the triumphs of the favored, and, for 
aught I know, the maledictions of the rejected. The sad- 
dles w^ere large and comfortable, and bordered on the right 
side and behind by a ridge, several inches high, stuffed and 
lined, for the purpose of supporting the rider when ascend-, 
ing a steep hill or mountain. 

On reaching the Hermitage of San Salvadore, which is 
just half-way up Vesuvius, we alighted and refreshed our- 
selves with some of the far-famed Lachry m8e Christi, 
(tears of Christ !) a luscious wine, worthy of its reputa- 
tion. It is naade from the grapes in the neighbourhood of 
the mountain, and derives its appellation from the manner 
in which it exudes from them, even before they are sub- 
jected to any pressure but their own weight ; it drops from 
the press like tears^ and is of crimson hue. A mile from 
the Hermitage, we again abandoned our mules, and climbed 
the " ashy steep" on foot. Advancing slowly, and secured 
to our guides by leathern belts, we accomplished the task- 
without difficulty ; perils there was none ; for^ at every 
step, we sunk into the dried and parphed soil, as if treading 
on newly ploughed ground, and, of course, there w^as no 
risque of slipping ; but the jerking raotion, occasioned by 



177 

the unequal walk of our conductors, was extremely dis- 
agreeable, and I quickly liberated myself from harness and 
held the strap in my hand, to pull against, when assistance 
was requisite. As we progressed, our sensations of won- 
der and delight increased. There we were — environed by 
a surface of blackened lava, miles in extent, and totally de* 
void of a tree, or bush, or any semblance w^hatever of 
vegetation. Above us, curled the thick smoke of the vol- 
cano, mingled with white and greyish vapours, which, ow* 
ing to the dampness of the weather, arose from the earth. 
Below us lay expanded the '^ blue glittering bay of Na- 
ples," with its twin promontories, islets, villages and cities; 
beyond these, in perspective, soared a series of undulating 
appenines, tinged with that soft plumb-like hue so pecu- 
liar to Italy. Gazing upwards, I thought of Pluto's dis- 
mal empire — doianwards, of Paradise itself. The abodes 
of misery and happiness seemed to have changed places. 
The blendino; of lio;ht and shade was strikino; and beaiiti- 
ful ! The traveller was right, I think, who designated light 
as the physiognomy of scenery, and compared a landscape 
to a regular set of features ; avering that both may be 
good, but neither speak, unless the light of Nature, or 
of ?nir,d, illumine them. 

Owing to the continual crumbling of the lava, the crater 
presents a different form almost annually; to iis its outline 
was that of an oval ; some parts of the edge were too hot 
to stand upon for more than a few minutes, and a sheet of 
paper thrust in, soon ignited. We descended fourteen feet 
into the abyss, and walked upon a broad and projecting 
rock, where we distinctly heard the crackling of the flames 
in the aperture whence oozed the fiery smoke. The next 
day this gigantic rock tumbled down, and created a dread- 



178 

ful panic in the vicinity of the mountain. The crash it 
made, and the quantity of ashes and cinders it forced into 
the air, caused persons^ for an instant, to beUeve that an 
irruption was commencing, and to rush from their dwellings. 
When told of this event, I trust all of our party felt grate- 
ful to Providence for saving us from the awful end that 
would have been ours, had the avalanche occurred twenty- 
eight hours sooner. None of us desired the celebrity of 
Pliny, the elder, that *• Martyr of Nature,'' as he is justly- 
styled, upon condition of sharing his fate. When we grew 
tired of looking and admiring, (for even contrast may be- 
come monotonous.) we descended and remounted our don- 
keys, which manifested much more willingness in carrying 
back their burdens to Portici, than they had done in bring- 
ing them from there. 

On reaching Naples, it was quite late, and we were rather 
exhausted, yet could not resist the temptation of going to 
the Opera, to see Madame Pasta in ^^ Tancredi.'' The 
magnificent theatre of Don Carlos was brilliant with lamps, 
chandeliers, and gilding. Its drop-curtain was the most 
splendid I ever saw — it was blue and gold, with a rich 
border of roses, and the centre adorned with Cupids, in 
cars, drawn by various animals. To show that ^^ Love 
conquers all things,'' was (I conjecture) the design. The 
King and Queen, with their suite, were present, and Pasta 
seemed inspired. She was more than human. We had 
heard her before, but never did she appear as lovely, or 
sing so divinely. Her voice might have vied wdth the 
clearest and softest flute, as she executed most difficult and 
exquisite passages in music. Well might she be called the 
queen of song. When we retired to our pillows that 



179 ^ 

night, it was to dream of her syren notes and eloquent 
acting. 

Sulky clouds portended rain when we arose next morn- 
ing, at an early hour, in order to prepare for another ex- 
cursion — our goal, Pompeii; in its loneliness and desolation ! 
While breakfasting^ the sky vented its wrath in a plentiful 
and rapid shower, after which the clear blue ether triumph- 
ed in the heavens ; and at 8 o'clock we departed, with 
the presage of a fine day, and travelling baskets well 
stocked with provisions for a cold dinner in the villa of 
Diomede, the first edifice that presents itself^ as you enter 
Pompeii, by what is termed the Appian way — the way we 
intended going. We retraced our steps as far as Portici, 
and thence proceeded through the towns of Torre del Greco 
and Torre del Annunziata, both of which sujSfered from the 
burning torrents of Vesuvius ; indeedy were destroyed by 
them, but have since been rebuilt. We saw vineyards' 
which the lava had streamed across, and becoming cold, had 
formed, in some places, solid crusts, several feet thick, ahrf 
of a brown color ; portions of the road w^ere hewn through 
these stony beds. We were informed that the lava runs 
very slowly, and that the smallest impediment will stop its- 
course — it then swells, sometimes, to the height of a dozen' 
or fourteen feet, environs whatever hinders its progress, till 
it has destroyed or covered it ; flints and porous rocks 
it causes to break, with an explosion like gun-powder ; 
trees, and wooden objects, it ignites and consumes ; when 
hardened, it is capable of receiving a brilliant polish, and is 
applied to ornamental as well as useful purposes. Most of 
the Neapolitan towns, both ancient and modern, are paved 
with it. As we approached Pompeii, our interest almost 
amounted to awe — we arrived, and thrilling with curiosity. 



180 

alighted near the Herculaneum gate ; our path towards it 
was bordered by a double row of mausoleums, massive, grey 
with age, and bearing inscriptions, some of which were 
quite legible. 

After examining them, we quitted this funeral suburb and 
entered the city — silently Ave threaded its solitary streets ; 
their raised footways flanked with tenantless, roofless 
houses, wherein the stillness of death prevailed. Not a 
sound was audible, save our loitering steps upon the mosaic 
floors, and our low-toned voices when we made a casual ob- 
servation or questioned the cicerone who accompanied us. 
Mirth or loud conversation would have seemed unbefitting, 
while w^andering through that solemn city, with its decay- 
ing fanes, theatres and dwellings of yore ! The horrible 
fate of the beings who once enlivened them gleamed, too, 
upon our memories, and added depth to feeling as w^e viewed 
and inspected their forsaken haunts. 

It is inferred, how^ever, that the Pompeiians generally 
escaped wuth their lives, as not more than a hundred skele- 
tons have ever been discovered among the ruins, and only 
one in the theatre, where, according to history, the people 
were assembled in great numbers, w^hen the irruption began ; 
and that as the volcano always gives indications of a violent 
and dangerous discharge hours before it takes place, only 
those perished who were too old, too feeble or too sick to 
run, or perhaps too avaricious to abandon their wealth in 
their flight."* Of this miserly class, Diomede, in whose 
stately mansion we dined, (as above stated,) was conjec- 

* Vasi, in liis ''picture of Naples and environs." tells us that 
'' wlien dense clouds of black smoke arise, and particularly when 
they assume the form of a cone or pine tree, it is considered as an 
iiiialiible sign of an a]r})r(jacliing eruption." 



181 

tured to be, because his skeleton was found near his gate, 
grasping a key in one hand, and coins and jewels in the 
other. With him, strong in death was the ruling passion ! 
In his cellar we saw fifteen wine casks glued to the wall 
by lava, and evident impressions of five or six human bo- 
dies. 

Pompeii was buried beneath a deluge of ashes and cin- 
ders ; from which it has been completely dug out, and now 
stands fully revealed, resembling a city that has been the 
prey of flames, except that its walls and window-sills are 
not blackened by smoke. Its houses are only two stories 
high, but many of them are rich in architectural ornament 
and arabesque painting — many are adorned with colonades, 
enclosing a spacious court, with a fountain or reservoir in 
the centre. Over the principal doors of some, the names of 
the owners are written in red paint. Among others, I re- 
collect those of Pansa, the Roman consul, and Caius Sallust, 
the historian : the latter is said to have possessed one of the 
inost beautiful residences in the city, containing a great deal 
of handsome furniture, and mosaic decorations, statues and 
paintings, which, with myriads from other mansions, public 
and private, have been conveyed to the Museum in Naples, 
rendering it a complete Golconda of such treasures. It is 
surprising, in what ii perfect state the things are, and how 
much the articles of household furniture, and utensils for 
various purposes, resemble those of the present century 
designed for similar sse. 

The streets of Pompeii are regular and straight, but en- 
tirely too narrow to admit of carriages passing each other 
in any of them; so that a certain number must have been 
appropriated to vehicles proceeding in certain directions. 
The traces of wheels still indent the pavement of several, 



182 

and not being more than two or three feet apart, prove that 
the carriages of those times were very diminutive — perhaps 
mere cars or small open chariotS;, such as we see depicted in 
antique paintings. 

The grandest and best preserved of the public edifices 
are the Temple of Isis, the Palace of Justice, and the 
AmphitheatrCj where the famous combat took place be- 
tween the Pompeiians and the Nocereans during an exhi- 
bition of gladiators, for which the Roman Senate exiled its 
leaders, and prohibited all such sports for the space of ten 
years. The shops of Pompeii excite equal interest, though, 
of course, not equal admiration with its nobler and more 
aristocratic buildings. The statuary^s, the apothecary's, 
the carpenter's, the jeweller's occupation, is either men- 
tioned on a sign Vvithout, or designated by some mark or 
emblem within. The counter of the apothecary bears stains 
of vials and glasses, which contained something corrosive ; 
that of the confectioner displays those of saucers and cups, 
and in the bakery are ovens. We lingered through these 
deserted abodes, once the busy scene of human activity and 
labor, but now so '' sad, solitary and silent," till the slant- 
ing rays of the declining sun invested them with a factitious 
cheerfulness, at the same time that they warned us to de- 
part if we wished to be benefited by their light during 
our ride home : so, bestowing the w^ell-earned and ex- 
pected recompense upon our honest and intelligent '^ Si- 
vanni" for his services, we returned to bustling, thriving, 
noisy Naples. The moon rose in splendor as we entered it, 
and the long ride, and the sentimental, exciting and mo- 
ralizing day we had spent, did not decrease our appetites, 
when we attacked the abundant supper which awaited us. 



183 

NUMBER III. 



A VISIT TO THE SHAKERS. 

On the 17th of September^ 18 — ^ our curiosity was 
highly gratified by a visit to the celebrated Shaker village, 
about two miles from New-Lebanon, in the state of New- 
York. It consisted, principally, of yellow wooden houses, 
with neat and verdant yards around them. Their gardens 
and orchards w^ere regularly laid out, and kept as clean and 
nice as possible ; and their vegetables and fruits cultivated 
with the greatest attention and care. The women wore 
dark-coloured gowns, black-stuff shoes with old-fashioned 
high heels ; and on their necks and heads, white muslin 
kerchiefs and caps. They turned their hair back from the 
forehead and tucked it up behind. The men w^ore theirs 
very short, and were clad in suits of grey or brown. 

We were received with much hospitality, and treated 
with delicious cider, bread and butter, cheese and milk. 
They shewed us their whole establishment — the dairy, tho 
cheese-room, the dining-room, kitchen and chambers, and 
we were surprised at the numerous ingenious contrivances 
they had, for saving labor and rendering themselves com- 
fortable. We saw about thirty of them at dinner. When 
they had finished eating they knelt down, and not a sound 
was heard, or movement made, for seme minutes ; each ap- 
peared absorbed in devotion. Having thus returned thanks, 
all arose simultaneously and hastened away to busines$. 

Our guides were extremely affable and communicative, and 
told and shewed us many things, which I shall not take 
time to narrate at present. In the depository, or store, 



184 

they had for sale, boxes, brooms, sieves, brushes, silver 
pens, pincushions, and various other articles, but no baskets, 
much to our disappointment, for we wished to have pur- 
chased some ; they told us they had been in such demand, 
that from a large supply, not one was left. Their work, 
of every description, was uncommonly neat and substantial, 
so w^e consoled ourselves with mats and wooden spoons. In 
consequence of a shower, we were detained among these 
singular beings for several hours; at length we got 
off, probably, as much to their satisfaction as our own. 

The next day being the sabbath, we resolved to attend 
their worship, and accordingly, after breakfast, again pro- 
ceeded to their village ; there was a considerable party of 
us, and we filled several carriages. The church was a white 
wood building, with a tin roof; it stood on a most velvet- 
like and beautiful green mound, enclosed by a white paling; 
it looked like purity itself ; but what fantastic ceremonies 
did we witness within ? None that inspired either devotion 
or respect. When we entered, the men were ushered in at 
a different door from the one that admitted the women ; for 
the sexes are not permitted to sit together. The walls of 
the church were painted blue, the windows were numerous 
and large, and the floor of fine plank, nicely scoured and 
sanded. 

The service lasted upwards of two hours, and was 
well worth a journey to witness. The men arranged them- 
selves in corps of ten abreast, opposite to similar corps of 
women. With clasped hands and solemn faces, they re- 
mained motionless, till, urged by the Spirit, (as they term it,) 
one would advance into the space between them and the 
phalanx of females, and deliver a sort of lecture, the 
greatest recommendation of which was its brevity ; then 



185 

resuming his place in the ranks, prayer and shouting arose, 
accompanied by a gentle movement of their persons up and 
down, by raising themselves on their toes. When this had 
continued about half an hour, a signal was given, upon 
which they brought forward, from the sides of the church, 
long benches, and arranged them in straight lines ; men and 
women still keeping places and distance as when previously 
standing. As there was not room enough on the benches 
for all to sit, some took turns wdth their neighbours. In 
the meanwhile one of the elders preached quite a good 
sermon, and was succeeded by another, who equally edified 
us. Each stood facing their visitors, (our party,) to whom 
they seemed to address themselves, and not to their own 
sect on either side of them. When the second elder had 
ended his discourse, the benches w^ere removed with much 
dexterity, and again they formed themselves into tw^o corps 
as at first, and we had a repetition of speaking, praying, 
and shouting. At length they became quiet, and an old 
man advanced towards us, and requested that there might 
be neither whispering nor laughing among the strangers ^ 
at the manner in which they were about to worship God, 
He said they acted with sincerity of heart, and with a view 
to the Creator's glory. He then retreated, and in an in- 
stant he and his companions stripped off their coats, and 
turned their sallow faces to the wall and their backs to us ; 
the women did likewise, with the exception of disrobing. 
In that position they sung, with loud and harsh voices, a 
monotonous tune, and danced with all their might, for at 
least fifteen minutes ; then with the skill of experienced 
soldiers, they arranged themselves four abreast, (males and 
females always in distinct columns,) and marched round 

and round, tUl their bones must certainly have ached. 
o2 



186 

They held their arms up from the elbow, and let their 
hands droop from the wrist^ looking, for all the world, like 
a flock of penguins. Sometimes they prayed, sometimes 
they sung and loudly clapped their hands ; yet did these 
make less noise than another set^ who stood, with joined 
hands, as if going to dance a reel in the centre of the church, 
and almost stunned us with their vociferations. 

We quite rejoiced when the commotion was over, and 
the moment of departure arrived, and did not fail to hasten 
ours. It was painful to behold our fellow-creatures under 
the influence of such absurd fanaticism ! 

We remained only a couple of days at Lebanon. The 
season for bathing and drinking the waters there, being 
past, it was not an inviting sojourn, and we soon retraced 
the road back to Albany. 

The old Dutch houses, with which that city abounded, 
with their antiquated roofs and windows, interested me 
much more than its statelier residences and public edifices. 

We visited the spacious yellow mansion in which the 
veteran, Gen. Schuyler, used to reside. The yard and gar- 
den w^ere rendered almost gloomy, by the number of trees 
which shaded them. Most of them were cedars, and other 
Fombre-tinted evergreens, reminding us of Lord Byron's 
beautiful lines on the cypress : 

" Darli tree ! still sad when other's grief is fled, 
The only constant mourner o'er the dead!" 



187 



NUMBER IV. 



A SHORT SOJOURN IN FRANKFORT ON THE MAIN, 



Well, as I was saying, we lefc Darmstadt at 2 o'clock, 
A. M., in a drizzling rain. On the route, we passed through 
Langen, Spreudlingen and Neuf-Isenbourg. At Langen, we 
baited the hprses, and; w^hile waiting at the inn, observed 
in a neighbouring pool a brood of remarkably beautiful 
(Jucks — about the neck and breast their plumage was white ; 
on the rest of their bodies, of a rich green and black; and 
their bills of the brightest yellow — they resembled the Ame- 
rican summer duck. Another set w^ere of a pale brown, 
with bills slightly hooked, and white or brown tufts on their 
heads, looking very regaL 

Between Langen and Isenbourg, \ve threaded a forest of 
noble oak and beech trees, that were really brilliant with 
the hues of autumn. The rain had ceased, and, a3 we ap- 
proached Frankfort, numerous and flourishing vineyards 
perfumed and enlivened our road, filled with men, women, 
girls and boys gathering their luscious products. Some of 
the men w^ore three-cornered hats, and some of the women 
white quilted cotton caps with stiff peaked crowns, (I thought 
them frightful ;) while others, more youthful in appearance, 
had their hair platted and wound entirely round the head ; 
the little girls wore their's in bands falling to their waists, 
as is the fashion among us at present. 

The view of the town, river, and mountains beyond it, 
was enchanting ! We crossed the stone bridge over the 
IVJain, and were set down at the ^' Hotel of the Golden 



188 

Swan." It was past 8 o'clock — so we were fain to sup and 
j-etire for the night. The next morning we commenced our 
peregrinations by a visit to the Roemer^ an ancient Gothic 
edifice, where the Emperors used to be elected and crowned, 
and where the Senate still sits. The spacious hall in which 
they meet is wainscotted with crimson damask, and its ceil- 
ing ornamented with the coats of arms of the nine electors.* 
In the '^ Hall of the Emperors/^ forty-eight niches contain 
a likeness of each, painted to represent a bust of bronze on 
a pedestal, w^ith its shadow behind it, w^hich serves as a 
strong relief, and produces a good effect. The walls and 
ceiling of this room are decorated w^ith various devices and 
a picture of the judgment of Solomon. In front of the 
Eoemer stands a fountain, surmounted by a statue of Jus- 
tice : from this fountain wine is played for the populace on 
.certain fete days. 

The Cathedral next engaged us; it is old and ugly, and 
in the form of a cross. The clock is placed within the 
building, and the hours are struck by two little figures each 
side of it. On the right of the altar is the tomb of Gun- 
ther, the poet of Schwartzburg ; he was poisoned by a rival, 
w^ho w^as jealous of his favor at court. The Cathedral is 
dedicated to St. Bartholomew, and contains two horrid pic- 
tures of his martyrdom. While w^e were making our ob- 
servations, a christening party entered ; and after witnessing 
the ceremony we came away, and strolled through the Zeil, 
the finest street in the city ; and then, by way of contrast, 
took a view of the Jews' quarter — a dark, dirty and narrow 
defile, abounding with JShylock-lookmg personages, of whom 
I really felt afraid. The sides of many of the houses were 

* A change made in the Constitution of the Empire in 1798 (since 
tlie building of the room) has increased the number to ten. 



189 

slated^ and the windows of all of them extremely small. 
We saw the antique residence of the Rothschild family, the 
sons of which have become the chief bankers of Europe. It 
is a plain and humble dwelling. 

Frankfort is a spacious, modern-looking town ; and but 
for the recollection of Goethe and Werter, alHed with no 
poetic or romantic associations. They were natives of the 
place, although Werter resided thirty miles distant : his real 
name was Jerusalein, Some author (I do not remember 
whom) bewails Goethe's having been born in the heart of a 
pounds-shillings-and-pence city, instead of the depths of an 
Alpine forest ; but surely his imaginations and flmcy were 
sufficiently vivid, without farther aid from Nature ; and it 
was for the sake of the author's own faculties, that the re- 
gret was expressed. Near the porte of Friedbourg (one of 
the gates of the town) we remarked a curious monument, 
and, on enquiry, were informed that it was erected by Fre- 
derick the 2nd, of Prussia; in memory of a Hessian Prince 
and his followers, w^ho were killed at the siege of Frankfort, 
in 1792. It consists of an immense block of marble placed 
on a pile of rocks ; the four sides are plated with copper, on 
which are inscriptions in German and Latin ; upon the sum- 
mit lies a gigantic helmet and shield, a cannon and a huge 
lion's skin ; it makes one think of the wondrous story of 
the '^Castle of Otranto." 

Our next resting place w\as the Church of St. Catherine; 
here we seated ourselves to recover breath and examine a 
good painting over the altar, the subject of which w\is the 
Redeemer at prayer in Gethsemane, and his disciples sleep- 
ing around him ; the chandeliers of this church are of glass, 
and somewhat curious ; two of them were surmounted with 
an image of St. Catherine holding her sword ; a third with 
two crucifixes, each bearing the body of our Saviour. 



190 

By this time we were pretty well satisfied with sight-see- 
ing, and returned to our lodgings ; as we walked along, we 
observed small mirrors of oval shape attached to the win- 
dows of many of the houses, and so fixed as to reflect ob- 
jects for a considerable distance up or down the street. We 
thought; at first, they were intended for that sole purpose ; 
but our landlord told us they were used thus, in order to 
reflect the rays of the sun and introduce them into rooms 
that, without them, w^ould be too sombre. Having recruit- 
ed our strength and energy, we proceeded, in the afternoon, 
to the neiv Library, a stately edifice of stone, with a portico 
supported by Corinthian colunins. There was not much to 
be seen within ; a moderate collection of books ; a few 
Egyptian antiquities, and some indifferently painted por- 
traits, but an excellent one of Martin Luther ; in a glass 
case were carefully preserved a stout pair of shoes, a blue 
linen shirt, and a coat of mail, once his, two of his letters, 
and two of Philip Melancthon's, his wise and gentle coad- 
jutor in the reformation^ whose benignity and moderation 
contrasted strongly with Luther^s vehemence and impetu- 
osity. 

Bethmann's garden and museum interested us very much. 
Mr. Bethmann is a millionaire, and a great admirer of the 
fine arts, which he liberally patronizes. His garden is lux- 
urient and beautifully laid out and decorated. His museum 
stands in it, and is divided into four apartments, one devoted 
to orange trees and other shrubs and plants ; the remaining 
three, to statues and busts of marble and plaister. Danne- 
ker's exquisite statue of Ariadne riding on a panther, has a 
room appropriated to itself. The coloured glass of the 
window tinges the figure with a roseate hue. The nymph 
is represented in a most graceful attitude, and with a coun- 



191 

tenance beaming with love and hope, for it is as the joyous 
bride of Bacchus, and not the forsaken of Theseus, that the 
sculptor has depicted her. Her head is wreathed with 
grape leaves, and she is sitting on a drapery, which falls 
naturally and tastefully over the back of the panther ; both 
figures are done to the life ! It seems as if a touch of the 
finger would leave an impression on them. And here a 
slight sketch of the artist, John Henry Von Danneker, 
may not be amiss. 

His birth-place was Stuttgard, and his family of low 
origin, and so poor that they could not afford to give 
him an education, except the simplest schooling. His 
talent for sculpture was indicated early in youth, by his 
carving, on the materials of a neighbouring stone-cutter, 
various designs and objects. Charles, Duke of Wirtemburg, 
in whose employ his father served as hostler, struck with 
the intelligence of his mien, received him into a military 
school he had established for the sons of his dependents, 
and, afterw^ards, furnished him with funds to visit Paris, 
whither he travelled on foot, and where he remained nearly, 
two years diligently devoting himself to his profession, and 
submitting to the greatest privations, in consequence of the 
ardour with w^hich he pursued it. He repaired to Rome 
from Paris, again travelling on foot ; here he met with 
Canova, who proved a warm friend to him, and assisted 
him with his counsels and instructions. At the end of five 
years, he returned to Germany, and was made Professor of 
the Fine Arts, in the vStuttgard Academy. He is now one 
of the most indefatigable and eminent of modern sculptors, 
and not only estimated for his genius, but beloved for his 
excellent qualities. Canova used to style him "the Blessed.'' 
Here we will bid him adieu and return to Frankfort. 



192 

A drive round its environs the following morning, was both 
refreshing and delightful ; a perfect garden, a FAnglaise, 
encompasses it and abounds in a variety of trees and flowers; 
there were many beautiful spruce pines, and, wherever there 
was shade from foilage, rustic seats allured the pedestrian. 
Swans and ducks in abundance were swimming about on 
streams and sheets of water. We made a second pilgrim- 
age to the Cathedral, to ascend the tower, on the top of 
which, to our utter amazement, we found the sexton and 
his wife residing in a small cabin, put up there for their 
accommodation ! They told us that they rarely quitted 
their airy pinnacle more than twice a week ; the stair-way 
leading to it was so steep and fatiguing, we could vouch for 
the truth of the assertion by our own feelings at the mo- 
ment. 

At night, we went to the Theatre ; both its exterior and 
interior are handsome ; over the stage was an illuminated 
clock; the music was good, and among the performers 
we heard a fine female vocalist; there were many gen- 
teel looking women in the pit as well as the boxes — they 
wore large bonnets and shawls ; the performance occa- 
sioned a deal of laughter, but not understanding Ger- 
man, we could not share in the mirth. Ice creams were 
handed during the evening — of coarse they were for 
sale, and each person laid his money on the waiter as he 
took a glass. The play was concluded by 9 o'clock, rather 
a more reasonable hour for separating than is usually ob- 
served at such entertainments. 

The ensuing day we were aroused from our morning 
slumbers by the firing of cannon, toiling of bells and march- 
ing of soldiers — it was the anniversary of the battle of 
Leipsic, and we hurried to the square in front of the Rcemer, 



193 

to witness its celebration. We counted eight regiments in 
dashing uniforms ; the caps of one company were peculiar- 
ly martial in appearance, being decorated with tremendous 
tassels of horse hair, hanging forwards and a little to one 
side over the forehead. The effect w^as quite improving. 
A vast crowd assembled to see the parade and listen to the 
lively music of the military bands. Senators in black oc- 
cupied the arches of the Rcemer, which were festooned with 
red cloth ; rich equipages (most of them drawn by coal black 
horses) were filled with well-dressed ladies, but we beheld 
no pretty faces among them. At 4 o'clock, three corps of 
little boys and girls sung a hymn, and then the populace 
rushed to the bridge and quay, where cannons were dis- 
charged, while the church bells rang loud and merrily. One 
gim sufficed our ears, and we hastened home, after refresh- 
ing ourselves with cakes and lemonade at a confectioner's* 
N. B. German cakes and bonbons are uncommonly nice and 
tempting ; sugar is, fabricated into all sorts of pretty things^ 
and di proportionate price demanded for them. 

What smokers the Germans are ! Whether driving, or 
riding, or walking, or sitting, within doors or without, they 
are puffing a pipe, and frequently have a pouch of tobacco 
tied to the button-hole of their coat; and always in their 
pocket, they carry a box with materials for striking fire. 
The shop windows of the town were filled with pipes ; 
some of them at least a yard in length. After that tumul- 
tuous day, we slept soundly, you may be sure, and were off 
for Mayence by dawn the next morning. 



194 

NUMBER V. 



THE OLD CITY OF MAYENCE. 

As we approached Mayencej or Mentz, for it is called 
by both these names, the one being German, the other 
French, a pleasing landscape opened upon our view, and a 
crimson sky tinted everything ^' couleur de rose." This is 
one of the strongest towns in Germany, and finely located 
on the slope of a hill; at the confluence of the Mein and 
the Rhine ; opposite, is the fortified town of Cassel, with 
which it is connected by a bridge of boats, and beyond these 
we remarked a row^ of wind-mills, on boats also. 

At the custom-house, passports and luggage w^re in- 
spected, but not strictly, nor w^ere we long kept waiting 
during the examination ; yet hov/ provoking are such deten- 
tions, however short ! especially to Americans accustomed 
to range over their own vast continent ad lihituW', as we 
say in music. 

The weather continued clear and cold, and after an early 
breakfast, next morning, we commenced our peregrinations; 
as usual beginning W'ith the Cathedral, like all other cathe- 
drals in Europe, a sombre and ancient looking pile. It was 
built in the tenth century, but not completed till the eleventh, 
when it was nearly destroyed by fire and again constructed. 
Here we saw the tomb of Frauenlob, chief of the Trouba- 
dours, (they told us,) a minstrel who devoted his strains to 
the graces and virtues of the female sex, and thereby be- 
came so great a favorite with the ladies of Mayence, (then 
the chief resort of the Troubadors,) that on his death ih^-^ 
insisted upon bearing his body to the grave ; where they 



195 

bewailed his loss with sighs and tears, ana poured out such 
plentiful libations of wine, in honor of him, that the 
spacious floor of the church w^as w^ell nigh deluged. So 
much for tradition. The tomb consists of two bas reliefs, 
placed against the wall of the adjoining cloister ; one repre- 
sents the funeral procession of the minstrel, and the other 
his bust. An escutcheon, on the wall within the Cathe- 
dral, denotes the resting-place of Fastrade, the wife of 
Charlemagne, and beneath it is engraved a Latin inscription 
concerning her. Over one of the altars is a huge picture 
of Saint Martin, the patron Saint of the church ; he is on 
horseback, and both man and charger are the full size of 
life. 

After viewing two or three other chuTches, of which I wilt 
not speak; lest you be surfeited by such-like descriptions, we 
w^alked to the Library ; but it w^as undergoing repairs and 
could not be entered — this was quite a disappointment, as 
it contains a fine collection of ancient medals, and numerous 
specimens of the first essays in printing with moveable 
types, w^hich we desired to see. The inventor of these, 
Jean Goensfleisch de Sorgenloch, usually styled Gutenberg, 
from the name of his habitation, (signifying good mountain,) 
was a native and resident of Mayence; and we visited the 
house in w^hich he resided. He was of noble birth, and a 
sign bearing his coat-of-arms and an inscription, in gilt 
letters, informs those passers-by, who can read and compre- 
hend German; that said house was once his dwelling place. 
His coat-of-arms is also marked on a projecting beam of 
vrood in the chamber he occupied. He was assisted in his 
plans by a w^ealthy goldsmith of the town, John Fust, or 
Faust, who, in conjunction with Pierre Schoeffer, after- 



196 

wards improved the types by forming them of metal in- 
stead of wood. 

Strasbourg, Harlem, and Mayence, are very jealous of 
each other on the subject of printing, each claiming the 
credit of its invention ; but this dispute, like that of the 
seven cities concerning their title to Homer ^ remains, I be- 
lieve, yet undetermined. 

A building, designated as being the first printing establish- 
ment, is still standing, and is termed '^ la cour zum Inngen/' 

The next things of note that attracted us, were the 
Hall of Antiquities, tjie Picture Gallery, and the Ducal 
Palace. In the last is shewn the suite of apartments which 
Napoleon Buonaparte occupied, during his sojourn in 
Mayence. Our cicerone on the occasion, a respectable 
German woman, who spoke English tolerably well, lavished 
high praises on the French Emperor ; she said all loved 
him who attended on him, he was so kind and generous ! 
That his soldiers lived like princes, and that those who sup- 
plied them were amply paid. ^' Ah!" she exclaimed, *^ times 
are sadly changed since then ; what I gave to the poor, in 
those days, I w^ould now be glad to get myself.'^ In fact, 
wherever v>'e stopped, the very name of Napoleon, if men- 
tioned, seemed to call forth, from the middling and lower 
classes, enthusiasm and commendation. 

In the Hall of Antiquities we saw many ancient votive 
altars, and at least fifty large monumental stones, bearing 
sculptured figures of Roman Knights. They were dis- 
covered on an eminence in tlje vicinity of the town, (where 
was onpe a Roman cemetery,) by Professor Lehne, a learned 
gentleman ; said to be almost as devoted to antiquarian re- 
searches and lore, as Sir Walter Scott's famous Mr. Old- 
buck, alias Monkbarns ; and the neighbourhood of May- 



197 

etice furnishes unlimited means of indulging his labors and 
taste ; for the city is exceedingly old, being founded as 
early as the 70th year of the Christian era, by Drusus 
Germanicus, during the wars between the ancient Ger- 
mans and Romans. In that stormy age he built a fortifi- 
cation, called in Latin Mogontiacum, which was gradually 
surrounded by other edifices till the number increased to a 
town, eventually enlarged and called Mentz, or Mayence. 
A second fort, erected by him on the opposite bank of the 
Rhine, was in like manner the origin of Cassel. Mayence 
was afterwards totally destroyed, but refounded by Charle- 
magne. 

All this is a digression — let us re-enter the Hall of An- 
tiquities, to notice the plan of a noble bridge, which Na- 
poleon intended to have had constructed over the Rhine. 
It was to be of sufficient height to allow of vessels passing 
under it, and would have cost thirty-six millions of francs. 

Among the pictures in the Gallery of Painting, there 
w^as a singular one entitled the Menagerie of Rubens; 
in which his wife and child are represented, surrounded by 
various sorts of birds and beasts. The human figures were 
executed by himself^ the birds and quadrupeds by Francis 
Snyders, the Flemish artist, so renowned for his skill in that 
species of painting. He was a native of Antwerp, and 
often worked in concert with Rubens. Much enjoyment 
have I had in viewing both their joint and separate pro- 
ductions, and those of other equally eminent limners ! 

Poetry and music, ^tis true, are delightful, but I regard 
painting as the most valuable art ; because it not only 
brings before us scenes and places of beauty, grandeur, and 
celebrity, which otherwise we would never behold, but en- 
ables us to retain the forms and features of our beloved 

p2 



198 

friends when they are no longer with us. And what yields 
more soul-thrilling, though melancholy pleasure^ than gazing 
on the cherished lineaments of those w^e almost idolized, 
when on earth, after they have been torn from us by the cold 
and relentless grasp of death? For the same reason statuary, 
or sculpture, ranks next to painting, in my preference ; but 
the dead \vhiteness of the cold marble plays not upon the 
heart and imagination with the force of the glowirig can- 
vass ; nor, like it, for a moment charms us into the eva- 
nescent belief of beholding the dear originals themselves. 

But, again, a triice with digressions! and ^^ revenons a' 
nos montons." 

There are several most agreeable and enticing public 
promenades at Mayence ; the two principal we visited — 
these were the " Favorita'' and the " Gartenfeld ;" from 
both you have a bewitching prospect. The ^^ Favorita'* 
was once a fortification, and from its heights are seen the 
towm, the sparkling river with its islets, the busy villages, 
whirling wind-mills and bridge of boats, and the mouth of 
the sluggish Mein, pouring its tributary waters into the 
green and rapid Rhine. The '' Gartenfeld'^ (Gardenfield) 
borders the latter, and is so arranged that it can be inun- 
dated in time of w^ar. 

One morning, with a little boy to guide us, we proceeded 
to the tower of Drusus, in the vicinity of Mayence. This 
is the remains of a monument erected in honor of him. It 
is circular, and contains a spiral stair-case. The Germans 
term it the Eichelstein, (Eagle's stone,) because it was for- 
merly surmounted w^ith an eagle. ' 

The weather being uncommonly fine, and the vintage go- 
ing on, we were induced to extend our walk farther into 
the countrv. anrl a merry scene we w^itnessed — there was a 



199 

numerous band of peasants, singing loudly and cheerily as 
they pursued their labours ; presently up came another set, 
in procession, headed by a rosy-faced little fellow, a minia- 
ture Bacchus, with a wreath on his head and a banner in 
his hands, made of divers gay-colored ribbons and pieces of 
cloth, which he wav.ed about with quite a triumphal and 
martial air, accompanying every gesture with what he 
meant for music ; but which sounded discordant and grating 
to our ears, and we were glad when the train dispersed. 
The vintagers were very generous in offering us grapes, of 
which we partook plentifully, nor would they accept of any 
remuneration. 

And now, with your leave, I will close my details, this 
evening, with an appropriate fiction^ which shall be called, 
not " Alonzo,^^ but, 

RODOLPH, THE BRAVE. 

A peasant girl of Ezbach, a town of the Rhingan, where, 
you know, the best wines of Germany are made, was re- 
markable for her beauty; and from among the numerous 
swains it had subjugated she selected, as her favorite, a 
young vintager almost as handsome as herself, and promised 
him that the hymenial knot should be tied as soon as the 
grape-gathering was finished. In the meanwhile, the happy 
pair daily plied together their pleasant tasks. 

One morning, while thus employed, the Lord of the 
Castle, who, after a long absence, had just returned to his 
domains, came riding by on a tour of inspection. He had 
left the bright-eyed, cherry-cheeked Frederica, an unat- 
tractive child of nine years old — she now stood before him 
a graceful, lovely girl, the pride of the village. He fell 
desperately in love!— sent for her the next Sunday, to his 



200 

dwelling, and proffered the astonished maiden his hand and 
heart. She was no Jeanie Deans on the occasion; and 
dazzled by his promises of gifts and pleasures, above all by 
the splendors which adorned his stately halls, she listened 
to the tempter, and abandoned her humble lover for the 
wealthy Coimt. 

In due time, and with due festivities, the nuptials were 
<ielebrated ; and the bride, in her rich attire, looked more 
beautiful than ever. But the paleness of her face, and the 
trenmour and icy coldness of her hand, betrayed too plainly 
the struggle, the agony of her bosom, where Love lay 
bleeding beneath the selfish grasp of Ambition. 

Rodolph could not witness the unhallowed bands. In 
despair he quitted his birth-place, and fled to a distant land. 

Frederica grew more and more unhappy. She was soon 
surfeited with the luxuries for which she had sacrificed her- 
self and her lover ; and a victim to the tormenting jealousy 
and harshness of her lord, who, ungenerous and narrow- 
minded, incessantly reproached her with her attachments to 
Rodolph, (thereby exciting both her aversion and contempt,) 
she pined away ; her beauty faded, her health and strength 
departed ; and ere a second summer, after that fatal union, 
had re-clad the vines with leaves and fruit, the grass grew 
high and green around the tomb of poor Frederica ! 

She left an infant, a few months old, and the babe was 
lovely as the mother it resembled, and thrived and pros- 
pered under the devoted care of its maternal grand parents. 
Its reckless father, weary of his lonely hearth, had com- 
mitted it to their charge, and again gone forth to seek en- 
joyment on some foreign shore. Thence, in after years, the 
tidings came that he was dead ; and behold, the little Ger- 
trude a rich and beauteous heiress ! Hosts of lovers wor- 



201 

ship at her shrine, but '^ favours to none, tho' smiles to a//, 
she extends ;'^ until a warrior bold, with laurel- wreathed 
brow, casts his trophies at her feet. His valor and his 
manly beauty prove resistless, and she pledges him her 
troth. 

And loho is this " warrior bold" — this victorious cham- 
pion in love and war ? 

It is Rodolph, once termed the " Forsakm.^^ but now 
the " Braver 

With valiant heart he subdued his ill-requited passion and 
wooed another bride, and Glory was her name ! He sought 
and won her on the battle-field of Prague. 

A gallant knight, guerdoned with well-earned honors, he 
returns to his country — hears of the syren of Ezbach, 
whose fascinations are enchaining every heart, and hastens 
to his own cherished home to yield his homage too. 

With amazement he recognizes, in the enchantress, the 
daughter, the image, of his once adored and faithless 
Frederica ! 

" None but the brave deserve the fair'' — 

So thought Gertrude, and the suit of Rodolph was not 
rejected. Like C8esar,^^he came, he saw, he conquered.^' 
They were married, and long and flourishing was the line 
of their descendants ; and happily lived, to a green pld age, 
the Count and Countess of Ezbach. 



202 

NUMBER VI. 

*'LA GRANGE" AND ITS INMATES. 

It was a charming week that, which we spent at ^'La 
Grange Bleneau/^ the turretted and ivy-mantled castle of 
our venerated friend. General La Fayette, now no longer a 
sojourner upon earth. Peace to his soul ! . . . Dur- 
ing three days of that pleasant period, '^our sunshine lay 
within/' as one of my favorite songs has it — for without^ 
the rain came down in torrents, and the w^aters of the moat 
looked troubled, the sky gloomy, and the surrounding trees 
drooped under the storm. In short, a poetic dreamer might 
have imagined that the spirits of the castle's lake were 
busily employed in plotting mischief against the little boat 
that was tossing on its surface, and the waving shrubbery 
and vines in its vicinity. The interior of the castle exhibit- 
ed a far different aspect, with its pictured walls, gay covered 
sofas, chairs and window curtains ! — and then the cheerful 
faces, and hearts brimful of mirth and kindness, that were 
there ! Oh ! I well remember the merry set w^e formed. The 
young folks waltzing and dancing quadrilles to the sound 
of the piano, (there were no polkas in those days, at least 
out of Hungary and Poland,) or playing at ^^ColinMaillard," 
(in plain English, ^^blindman's buff,'') and their elders look- 
ing on and enjoying th^ sight of their feats and graces, or 
else engaged in animated discourse, or deep in the mysteries 
of chess, and the chances of backgammon, ecarte, &c. 

The family then assembled at La Grange consisted of 
the General's only son and daughter-in-law. Monsieur and 
Madame George W. La Fayette, (who did the honours of 



203 

the castle,) and their three daughters, Natalie, Mathilde and' 
Clementine ; their sons were absent. The General's two- 
daughters, Madame Caroline de Maubourg and Madame 
Virginie de Lasterie, both of whom shared his captivity at 
Olmutz from choice, as did their mother^ who afterwards 
died of an illness caused by the hardships and sufferings ex- 
perienced during that horrible incarceration. Madame de 
Lasterie had also three daughters, and Madame de Mau- 
bourg two ; then there were young Julius de Lasterie, and 
a half score of other young people, on a visit to him and his 
sisters and cousins, it being a holiday season. Even now, 
I can recall to mind each of that happy, lively crew. 

Mathilde La Fayette, with her soft blue eyes and flow- 
ing ringlets, and Octavie de Lasterie, with her hazel orbs' 
and flaxen hair, (an unusual, but beautiful contrast I) I 
thought the prettiest of the girls, though Clementine was,^ 
perhaps, the most graceful and dignified in her appearance 
and deportment, and, withal, had much sweetness of man- 
ner. Besides our own immediate party, there w;ere several 
other guests, and when collected together, we daily consti- 
tuted a company of about thirty in number. 

It was in this refined circle we first had the pleasure of 
meeting, and becoming acquainted with, the beauteous 
Countess de Lobespin and her father, the old Count de 
Tracy, once a very literary character, but almost blind' 
when we saw him. The distinguished writer of the "Prus- 
sian Campaign," Count Philip de Segur, and the still 
more celebrated Count Segur, the elder, his venerable parent, 
were also there. We were charmed with the latter, and 
afterwards partook of several pleasant dinner parties at his 
residence in Paris, where we met many of the Literati of the 
day ; his house being quite a rendezvous for the learned and 



I 204 

talented. His entertainments were always simple and ex- 
tremely agreeable ; sprightly conversation, anecdotes and 
repartee abounded, and the hospitable old Count entered 
into the spirit of the '' feast of reason and flow of soul," 
(what a rare quotation I've selected !) with as much gusto 
as the very brightest and most vivacious of his company. 

But thus getting, in imagination^ into No. 13 Rue Du- 
phot, (Count Segur'shabitation^) I have wandered far from 
my original subject, "La Grange,'' and will now resume it, 
it being to me too agreeable a theme to abandon so 
quickly. After the gale I've described above, had subsided, 
and the cheering sun-beams had sufficiently dried the walks 
about the grounds, we strayed over the farm in every direc- 
tion that fancy led us, having neither fences or walls to im- 
pede our movements, as of such sorts of enclosures there 
were none. 

Everything bore the impress of good order, regularity 
and method, for everything was watched over with vigi- 
lence by the two masters of the domain^ the General and 
his son. It being the month of September, clusters of 
grapes hung in dewy freshness on their vines, and in our 
itinerant rambles we never failed to do ample justice to their 
lusciousness. Sometimes we amused ourselves in the mena- 
gerie, (for a menagerie there was, and a considerable one 
too !) watching the different ways of the birds and quad- 
rupeds it contained. There was a variety of both from 
foreign countries, and a couple of enormous bears from our 
own native land. They were sent out by the late Mr. 
Skinner, of Baltimore, the able editor of th(3 ^^Farmer's 
Magazine." 

These pedestrian excursions always immediately succeed- 
ed breakfast, the hour for which was eleven o'clock ; previ- 



205 

ous to this, each guest had coffee and a roll offered to him at 
his chamber door, so that we were no sufferers from hun- 
ger, and had ample time to perform our devotions and sun- 
dry necessary pieces of work, ere summoned to mingle 
with the world below at the festal board of the castle, 
where every luxury was displayed in abundance ; such as 
wines, fruits, conserves, cakes, meats, and bread in various 
forms ; also, butter and cream, and excellent milk, fresh 
from the extensive and well kept dairy. 

On re-entering the house, after our pleasant promenades, 
the ladies assembled for an hour or more in the parlour, 
where some embroidered or sewed, others made music on 
the piano, all talked, and all seemed to enjoy themselves. 
As to the ^Hords of the creation^'* I entirely forget what 
became of them until dinner ; the dear old General and Mr. 
George W. La Fayette went out to inspect the labourers 
on their farm, I suppose^ and others to hunt or shoot, or to 
fish in the lake, perhaps, and some no doubt resorted to the 
library, which was rich in valuable books, and had among 
them a set of handsomely bound volumes of American Or- 
nithology, that were executed in this country, and beauti- 
fully printed and engraved. 

We frequently varied our mode of exercise by a drive, 
and one balmy morning visited a neighbouring village, in 
whose sntiall parish church William Summerville, a Vir- 
ginian, lies buried. I well remember seeing him in my 
childhood, at my father's country seat, ^^the Hermitage," 
(dear old Hermitage !) where he spent many a day. Mr. 
Summerville was said to have been engaged to be married 
to the lovely Miss Conyers, who perished in the flames of 
the Richmond Theatre on the night of its awful conflagra- 
tion, December 26, 1811. Others aver that she was be- 
Q 



\ 



206 

trothed to the noble and gallant Gibbon, who, vainly try- 
ing to rescue her from the burning ruins, shared her hapless 
fate. 



NUMBER VII. 



THE INSTITUTION FOR THE DEAF AND DUMB, AKD 
THE BLIND ASYLUM IN PARIS. 

Not far from the little free-stone chapel which crowns 
the summit of Mont Louis, in the cemetery of Pere La 
Chaise, stands a small black marble sepulchre, bearing the 
date of 1823, and the name of Sicard, spelt in the expres* 
sive manual alphabet of the Deaf and Dumb. The letters 
are formed by six hands, delineated in different positions, 
after the manner of Egyptian hieroglyphics, and neatly: 
carved on the front of the tomb. 

It is an object of peculiar interest, and we paused before 
it, not from curiosity alone, but from an innate feeling of 
respect for the memory of him whose remains are enshrined 
within — whose life and talents were so nobly, so energeti- 
cally devoted to that work of wonder and benevolenccj the 
education of the Deaf and Dumb ! 

To the Abbe Roch Ambroise Cucurron Sicard, of Tous- 
seret, near Bordeaux, and to his teacher and predecessor, 
the Abbe Charles Michael de L^Epee, of Versailles, both 
the gratitude and admiration of all philanthropists are due ; 
but more especially the gratitude of such as have ties con- 
necting them with that once helpless portion of our race • 
for whose benefit the time and labors of these humane and 



207 

distinguished men were applied with such blessed success. 
They have passed from the earth ; but imperishable must 
ever be the fame and fruits of their good works, their in- 
genuity and exertions. To borrow the words of an inter- 
esting tourist; ''' their names and praises shall live, when 
the marble upon which they are engraved shall have 
crumbled into dust/' 

The Abbe de L^Epee possessed only a moderate income, 
yet supported; at his own private expense, no less than 
forty deaf and dumb children; and by his indefatigable in- 
structions and patience; accomplished his design of render- 
ing them susceptive of enjoyment w^ithin themselves and 
useful members of society. He even communicated to them 
the knowledge of various languages and sciences — some 
became mathematicians and engineers, and others poets and 
writers for literary works — all were taught a trade or pro- 
fession. Such was his regard for his protegees, that^ w^hen 
quite an old man, he has been known to deprive him- 
self of a fire, during an entire winter, in order to supply 
them liberally with that and other comforts. 

Government at length rewarded his generosity and suc- 
cessful efforts by its patronage, and erected a public insti- 
tution, which was committed to his guidance and control.- 
It is located in the Rue du Faubourg St. Jaques, towards 
the southern extremity of Paris, and is certainly one of the 
most interesting establishments in the city. 

One morning in every w^eek it is thrown open for public 
inspection ; and at the close of every month there is a pub- 
lic examination of the pupils, to which admission may be 
obtained by merely applying to the Director for tickets ; 
and well worth while it is to do this, and go there to wit- 
ness an interesting and touching scene, which will occupy 



208 

only a few hours, and leave a pleasing and lasting impres- 
sion on both mind and heart. 

The number of pupils is limited to ninety, and their rapid 
progress and attainments in different branches of knowledge, 
their development of power and acuteness in metaphysical 
reasoning — in short, their utter change from mental ob- 
scurity to soul-cheering hght of intellect, inspire the visitor 
with pleasure and amazement ; and almost induce the be- 
lief that Providence, who always '^ tempers the wind to 
the shorn lamb," has bestowed on this unfortunate class of 
human beings, higher capacities than common, to compen- 
sate, in some measure, for their deprivation of hearing and 
speech. 

After the death of the Abbe de L'Epee, which occurred 
in 1789, his friend and assistant, the Abbe Sicard, con- 
ducted the school with equal skill and credit — indeed, it- 
seemed as if, like Elijah of old, his master had cast his 
mantle upon him, and with it transmitted his ability and 
zeal for the office he bequeathed to him. 

To the original list of studies. Monsieur Sicard added 
the accomplishments of drawing, painting and working in 
mosaic, and had the gratification of sending forth, from his 
seminary, many proficients in each; but death, the fell de- 
stroyer of the good as well as the wicked, put an end to 
the labors of this excellent man while in the prime of his 
life and usefulness, and on the tenth of May, 1822, (a 
gloomy day for the poor mutes !) he was laid upon his bier. 
When we were in Paris, the Abbe Gawdelin occupied his 

place at the head of the institution, and Madame had 

charge of the girls ; for both male and female children are 
admitted, a circumstance I have neglected to mention. 

Those who can afford to pay, are charged for board and 



209 

tuition, but the poor are received gratuitously ; none of the 
latter, however, are suffered to enter without the testimony 
of a surgeon to their being deaf and dumb, nor without the 
most satisfactory proofs that their parents are unable to 
provide for their support and education. 

When these are obtained, the candidates are welcomed to 
a comfortable hooie, there to reside Jive years and be fitted 
to share in the pursuits of their fellow-creatures, and main- 
tain themselves by that trade, or profession, they may 
prove best calculated to acquire. Dr. Johnson calls their 
education " a philosophical curiosity ^^^ and so it really is. 
The idea of instructing them, and the method of doing so, 
is said to have originated with a Benedictine Monk, about 
the end of the sixteenth century — his name was Pedro de 
Ponce. He educated two Castilian children^ of high birth, 
who were mutes, and his success excited both w^onder and 
applause. 

After his time, several other Spaniards, and individuals in 
different countries, applied themselves to the same benevo- 
lent vocation, but their labors extended to a very few 
pupils, and their system of teaching was very incomplete — 
the happiness and honor of perfecting it were reserved for 
the two eminent Frenchmen, of whom I have been speaking. 

According to a computation, made some years ago by 
the Academy of Science, in Paris, there were then, in Eu- 
rope, more than eighty Institutions for the Deaf and Dumb, 
and several in the United States of America. 

To give you an idea of the unique and fanciful style in 
which the mutes usually express their conceptions of any- 
given subject, here are a series oi floivery definitions I have 
written in imitation of it. Suppose them to be asked the 
meaning of Gratitude, Fidelity, Ingratitude, Fear, Pride, 



210 

Humility, Revenge, Modesty, Patience, Punctuality, and 
Powerj they would probably answer somewhat as follows : 

Gratitude — The incense and beauty with which the 
flower repays the care and trouble of him who reared it. 

Fidelity — The adherence of the ivy to the scathed 
oak, or ruined tower. 

The constant turning of the sun-flower to the sun — 

*' As the sun-flower turns on her god when he sets, 
The same look which she turned when he rose." 

Moore. 

Ingratitude — The thorns of the rose, piercing the 
hand which nourished it. 

Fear — The shrinking of the sensitive-plant from the 
hand that would touch it. 

Pride — The towering of the stately holly-hock above 
more attractive and sweeter flowers of humbler growth. 

Humility— The loioliness of the sweet and beauteous 
violet. 

Revenge — The stinging of the nettle, when disturbed. 

Modesty — The retiring of the lily of the valley within 
its leaves. 

Patience — The prostration of the tulip during the 
storm. 

Punctuality — The opening and closing of the morn- 
ing-glory. 

Power — The exhalation from the upas-blossom, over- 
coming all within its influence — The fragrance of the 
ottar-gul. 

Lord Byron, in a note to one of his poems, relates that 
an eastern swain once broke a vial of this rich perfume (the 
ottar-gul, or ottar of roses) under the nose of a duenna, 
employed to keep guard over his lady-love, and that the old 



su 

woman was so overwhelmed by its potency that she fainted 
away; and thus he was enabled to enter the forbidden 
sround, and obtain the interview he desired to have with 
her fair charge. 

But a truce with digressions ! Let me resume the thread 
of ray reminiscences, and tell you of two other charitable 
establishments of peculiar interest, situated in the same 
quarter of Paris with that for the Deaf and Dumb ; these 
are the ^' Hospital of the Quinze Vingts/^ and the " Royal 
Institution for the Young Blind." The first was founded 
by St. Louis in 1220, and is exclusively appropriated to the 
indigent blind, who are there taught various mechanical 
arts and trades, and soon learn to gain their own subsist- 
ence instead of depending for it on the community. The 
appellation of ^^ Quinze Vingts," (fifteen twenties,) is de- 
rived from the number of paupers originally admitted, but 
which has since been allowed to be considerably augmented. 

The Hospital for the young blind is, as its name imports, 
designated for the young alone, and like the institution for 
the deaf and dumb, receives ninety pupils, including boys 
and girls ; like that too, it affords the stranger an opportu- 
nity of witnessing an interesting examination at the close 
of every months and is open to the public several mornings 
during the week. The course of instruction is also nearly 
the same, and the method of teaching; though totally dif- 
ferent, is equally ingenious. 

The children are taught reading, cyphering and music 
by means of cards and papers, stamped in a peculiar manner, 
expressly for their use. The letters, figures and notes are 
rendered palpable to the touch by being printed in relievo^ 
that is, raised above the surface of the card, or paper, and 
they learn them with facility and quickness by passing their 
fingers to and fro upon the lines of the page. 



212 

In writing, iron pens without slits are used. With these 
they distinctly trace the letters upon soft, tough paper by 
bearing very hard upon the pen. To keep their lines 
straight, and their letters equi-distant, the paper is ar- 
ranged in a very curious and ingenious machine contrived 
for the purpose ; and as whatever is thus written, must 
necessarily be read on the opposite side of the paper, they 
preceed from right to left, like the Chinese in their gro- 
tesque operations. 

In printing^ they are furnished with little boxes, each 
one containing a liberal supply of a different letter of the 
alphabet, which they easily select and arrange by feeling. 
When the types are set, a moistened sheet of paper, or 
pasteboard, is laid upon them ; and by the operation of a 
press, or the repeated strokes of a hammer, the desired 
impressions are permanently made. One of the pupils 
composed a comedy in verse, and printed it for his com- 
panions to act;^ and they used often to perform it wilb great 
zest and animation. Many of them evince considerable 
genius and a decided talent for composition ; but this fact 
will not surprise those who have read the biography of 
Doctor Thomas Blacklock^ a Scotch clergyman and poet, 
professor of divinity in the college of Aberdeen, and that 
of Doctor Nicholas Saunderson, professor of mathematics 
in Cambridge University, both of whom lost their eyes by 
small pox while they were infants, and yet, in after life, 
obtained such celebrity for their learning and acquirements. 
Then there was Didymus of Alexandria, who flourished in 
the fourth century, and was the preceptor of St. Jerome. 
He became blind in childhood, yet was deeply versed in 
every branch of science, and so conversant in eccle- 
siastical history and controversial theology, that he was 



213 

chosen to fill the chair of the Alexandrian school. He 
was pronounced the most learned man of the age, and was 
the author of numerous valuable works. 

It is an established theory, I believe, based upon the 
maxim of practice making perfect^ that by the loss of 
the sight, the remaining senses are sharpened, being called 
into exercise to supply its place. The touch, especially, 
being most employed, becomes so exquisitely subtle that it 
has been playfully remarked, that many of the blind, 
although deprived of their eyes, can see with their fingers ; 
and I have read of a sculptor who had not seen a ray of 
light for ten years, yet carved two marble statues, with 
correctness and skill, from memory, produced a good like- 
ness of the persons he intended to represent. Be that as 
it may, we were astonished at the extreme neatness and 
delicacy of a variety of mechanical works executed by the 
blind inmates of the institutions we visited ; even clock- 
making was carried almost to perfection. 

We were so fortunate as to call one morning when 
a singing class was in full chorus, and thereby had the 
benefit of quite a melodious concert, for they sung re- 
markably well, and we noticed, among the female voices, 
several which were full, clear and sweet. 

The class kept excellent time, guided by the tapping 
of a light wand upon a music desk in front of the leader, 
who flourished it aloft with the many gesticulations usual 
upon such squally occasions. We lingered nearly a half 
an hour listening to his bevy of warblers, and amused too, 
at his varied motions and emotions, if there chanced to 
tingle upon his quickened ear the dismal sound, or sem- 
blance, of a false note. 

The memory of the blind is singularly retentive; so 



214 

much so, that some have been known to recognize persons 
whom they had not met for years, merely by the tone of 
their voices. Their entire separation from outward scenes, 
brightens and improves this faculty as well as their mental 
perceptions. 

The laughing philosopher, Democritus of Abdera, in 
Thrace, is said to have voluntarily destroyed his bodily 
sight, in order that his mental contemplation might be 
uninterrupted by exterior objects. If he did^ I think he 
proved himself more of a fool or madman than a sage, and 
doubtless soon had cause to " laugh the ivrong side of his 
moiith^^^ (as runs the old saying,) for making the silly 
experiment. 

To one no earthly evil or misfortune appears so great 
and awful as total blindness! and I have been perfectly 
amazed to hear some persons aver that they would choose 
being in that state, in preference to being deaf and dumb, 
if compelled to suffer one or the other of these stupendous 
afflictions ! They adduce as a reason for this (to me) 
strange choice, that the blind appear generally cheerful and 
gay, and the mutes sad and morose. They should consider 
that when one sees the blind in company, or with a com- 
panion, it is beholding them under the most favorable 
auspices. They may then be excited or enlivened by those 
around them, and, for a while, thus made to forget their 
misery, or at least to feel it less sensibly ; w^hereas, it is at 
such periods that the mutes experience most ftdly the 
unhappiness of their condition, so cruelly incapacitating 
them for joining in the conversation and merriment of the 
moment. The mute, 'tis true, can but seldom enjoy social 
intercourse, and is dead to mortal voices and heavenly 
sounds, all of which are free to the blind ; but then, the 



215 

latter, poor wretch ! is shut out from God's most glorious 
light ! and the view of all the beauties, the sublimities, the 
wonders of nature ! 



NO. VIII. 



THREE QUEER VILLAGES AND OTHER THINGS IN 
HOLLAND. 

We were sojourning for a week in Amsterdam. The 
season, the fall of the year, and the weather generally 
cold and misty — but one morning when it was clear and 
exhiliarating, we proposed an excursion to the country, 
and after debating whither we should wend our way, 
decided on visiting the villages of Berkeslow and Broeck, 
and set out accordingly. 

Crossing the water in a row boat and landing at the toll- 
house, we thence proceeded on foot to Berkeslow^ The 
houses which constitute this little village are painted df 
divers colors — blue, red, pink, green, yellow, brown and 
lilac ! and a few are painted black-r-thus varying from 
one extreme to another, that is, from being of all colors, 
becoming of no color at alL The general appearance of 
the place reminded us of Burlington, in New Jersey. 

We passed en route the grand canal of Holland, which 
unites the river Wye with the Zuider Zee, and w^is cut for 
the purpose of allowing vessels of the largest size to 
reach Amsterdam without discharging a portion of their 
cargoes, which they were formerly obliged to do, in order 
to get over a bar. This canal is said to be the largest 
in the world, and is indeed a stupendous work ! We 
witnessed the passage of a vessel of considerable magni- 



216 

tude, and were told that a short while previous, a man of 
war, mounting 120 guns, had been carried through the 
enormous locks with ease and safety. 

At BerkesloWj we endeavored to procure a boat or a 
carriage, to convey us to Broeck, but failed in each 
attempt ; so nothing daunted, though much disappointed 
and somewhat fatigued, w^e even determined to continue our 
journey on foot rather than turn back, and a rough and a 
tough time we had of it ! 

Broeck is several miles from Amsterdam, but alas ! 
for us, we made a mistake in the road and thereby 
nearly doubled the distance. The path lay over an un- 
finished causeway, composed of loose stones ; these hurt 
our feet ; then the wind rose, and assailed our bonnets and 
faces with the usual blustering rudeness of Old Boreas and 
his attendant guests from the North sea. Yet on, on w^e 
trudged, with a patience and perseverance quite equal to 
those of the phlegmatic race through whose country we 
were thus toiling. At length we attained the object of 
our labors, and quickly discerned that it was well worth 
the difficulties we had surmounted in getting to it. Such a 
peculiar, such a queer kind of a town or village ! we never 
had beheld in the course of our peregrinations, either in 
Europe or America, and it is surprising that no description 
of it has been given in any of the various narratives of 
travellers through Holland which I have read. Indeed we 
should not have known of its existence and proximity to 
Amsterdam, but for the loquacity of our ^^maitre d' hotel,^^ 
W^ho was what " Mrs. Malaprop ^^ would have designated 
as a good natured and talkative " sort of a person.^^ 
She told us, besides, of many other things deserving the 
attention of " lookers on in Holland.'^ 



217 

Broeck is remarkable (even in Holland, where every 
place is 7ieat) for its perfect neatness and tranquility. No 
drawing room could be more exquisitely clean than its 
nicely paved alleys, for I cannot term them streets, they 
are so very, very narrow ! They are not more than four 
or five feet wide, I should think, with the exception of the 
main street, which is tolerably spacious, and like the 
others, paved with glazed and shining tiles, daily sprinkled 
with sand — probably for two purposes, to prevent one from 
slipping, and for the sake of tidiness. Not a vehicle of 
any kind is suffered to be brought into the town, nor 
an animal permitted to enter it, unless some of the feathered 
tribe may chance to alight there in the course of an serial 
excursion. 

In one of the streets, we observed a small flock of 
crows, pecking about quite as much at their ease as if in 
a wilderness, nor did they evince the least fear or concern 
at our passing very near them ; yet they w^ere not domesti- 
cated, and had alighted merely for a short time, for in less 
than half an hour they were again on the wing towards 
some other spot. 

The houses of Broeck, like the houses of Berkeslow, 
are of many colors, and each one has a certain door next 
the street, which is never opened, except on the occurrence 
of a w^edding or a funeral in the family. At all other 
times the entrance is through the back doors of the 
dwellings ; and by these may be seen, whenever there 
has been a fall of rain or snow, a pair or pairs of wooden 
slippers, intended for the use of all comers, who, to avoid 
soiling the floors within, put off* their wet shoes and leave 
them without, and in place of them, wear the sabots. 
They are never in much demand, for there is little sociabi - 



818 

ity or visiting among the people of the place. We were 
told that they rarely left their homes, even in fine weather ; 
and in our ramble through the village, we did not en- 
counter moie than ten or twelve persons. Near the centre 
of the town was a pretty lake, upon the borders of which, 
several storks were feeding. These birds are held in 
veneration in Holland, as well as in Germany ; it is 
deemed sacrilegious to kill them, and considered a fa- 
vorable omen by the supersitious, if they take up their 
quarters in the chimney, or on the roof of a house. One 
cause of their being so valued and preserved is, that they 
destroy venomous insects and reptiles, and the eggs of 
serpents. Their usual resort is the stable yard. 

We visited a beautiful garden, the property of a wealthy 
^^ Mynheer," named Bakker. Besides flowers and shrubs, 
trees and rivulets, statues and miniature bridges, a pigeon 
and summer house, a la Chhioise^ and a green house 
teeming with geraniums in full blossom, it contained a 
rustic cottage, which was quite a curiosity^ not merely 
from its completeness w^ithoiit, but for its contents. It 
w^as a picturesque thing, with a low, thatched roof, and a 
single apartment, furnished in the usual style of such 
dvvellings. Iti it, three automatons, or wooden figures, 
were seated on rush bottom chairs — an old woman with a 
spinning wheel before her, an old man holding a reel, and a 
sportsman with a gun. Each was painted, dressed and 
arrayed so naturally, and was so life-like in appearance, 
that on seeing them unexpectedly, we involuntarily started, 
and believed for a moment, that we had intruded upon the 
domestic privacy of a living group. Scarcely had we reco- 
vered from this surprise, when another was given us — whilst 
we were busily examining the automatons, our cicerone. 



319 

who was the gardener of the earthly paradise we had been 
perambulating, slipped unperceived by us into a closet 
in the rear of the cottage, and put in motion a small 
wheel connected with the wooden figures by a spring 
ingeniously contrived and concealed. No sooner was this 
spring touched, than the old crone began to spin with all 
her might, and the old man, with equal energy, to wind his 
reel, and pufF smoke from a pipe he held in his mouth. 
Where the smoke came from, and how it was produced, 
Heaven knows ! — we did not discover — but cheerily it 
curled away. The sportsman was the only inactive one 
of the company ; perhaps he was too tired after a hunting- 
excursion to move — for as we found him, so w^e left him — 
listlessly resting upon his gun. Around the cottage was a 
bright array of pewter plates and dishes, and some copper 
kettles and pans. You could almost see your face in their 
polished sides anci surfaces ; and the shelves upon w^hich 
they stood were as clean and white as deal boards could be 
scoured. By the bye, I have omitted, in speaking of the 
automatons above, to mention the most ingenious and 
wonderful thing in their construction, viz : that their heads 
and eyes moved, and it was really diverting to observe 
their motions and glances. 

On the way back to Amsterdam, we stopped at several 
farm houses, to see the arrangement of the cow stables, 
which had been represented as remarkably neat and clean, 
and verily there was no exaggeration in the account. A 
description of one may suffice for all, as they were very 
similar in every respect : a long low building was divided 
on one side into fifteen or twenty stalls, in each stall was 
an open window, above a trough filled with hay or other 
food. Each cow was haltered and fastened to a post, and 



220 

so thoroughly curried and rubbed, that her skin was sleek 
and shining ; and we remarked, that with few exceptions, 
all the cows we saw were black and spotted with white. 
When the cold is severe, a woolen cover is girted on, to 
keep them warm. The fxoors of the stalls were planked, 
and there were pipes for conveying the water and cleansing 
them several times a day. On the side of the building 
opposite the stalls, was a range of doors communicating with 
the various apartments of the family, and with the dairy, 
than which nothing could be more complete. Its capacious 
basins of cream and milk, and pots of golden-hued butter, 
were tempting to behold ! The main passage of the 
house, and I believe the only one, was this space between 
the stalls and doors described, but it was not in the least 
disagreeable — such perfect cleanliness and order prevailed 
throughout the whole establishment. 

On these farms large quantities of excellent butter and 
cheese are made, the sale of which contributes mainly to 
the support of their thrifty owners. 

Much to our comfort and satisfaction, we succeeded in 
obtaining a boat, after leaving Broeck. This was pulled 
along by a man upon the shore, and as it glided upon the 
surface of the canal, we were quite astonished at the 
immense numbers of wild geese, which clamored above 
and sometimes even fluttered around us. We WTre 
also struck with the grotesque costume of the country 
women who passed us. Some of them wore full plaited 
chintz petticoats and short gowns with tight sleeves, 
round and flat crowned caps, with stiff fluted borders 
to garnish the face, but not so much over it as to conceal 
a large and heavy pair of gold earrings. Several, who 
seemed of a higher grade than the ordinary class, had 



221 

their foreheads decorated with gold or gilt bandeaus, set 
with brilliant stones, and secured to their caps by a clasp 
on each side of the head. The women of Holland, like 
those of Germany, (I allude to the lower classes,) are 
great drudges. We met one driving a cart loaded with 
cheeses, and two others toiling ^vith a wheelbarrow quite 
overstocked with vegetables of divers kinds ; one pushed it 
along, while her companion dragged it by a rope attached 
to the back of it ; but it seemed very hard work, and they 
made slow progress. 

We reached Amsterdam at sun-set, and, on approaching 
the town, a sound of music, as it were from the clouds, 
saluted our ears ; the clocks were chiming a tune, as all the 
clocks of Holland do, before they strike the hour. On the 
way to our lodgings we saw two men clad in deep mourn- 
ing surtout-coats, with streamers of black cloth, bound 
with black satin ribbon, fastened to their backs ; they wore 
cocked hats with flowing crape bands, and their shoes were 
adorned with enormous silver buckles; their appearance 
was so strange that we could not help enquiring of a pas- 
senger in the street, what was their vocation, and were in- 
formed they were bearers of funeral invitations. A few 
days afterwards we had an opportunity of witnessing a 
funeral, and a heartless scene it was ! Four men thus 
equiped, '' in mockery of wo," one might truly say, walked 
after the hearse, in company with eight others in mourning ; 
but no sooner was the coffin deposited in the grave, than all 
of them jumped into the hearse and rode off as rapidly and 
merrily as if on a party of pleasure. The remaining per- 
sons, who formed the procession, quitted the cemetery with 
almost as much levity ; there were only a few females 
present, and they, like myself, stood aloof, and were merely 

R 



222 

spectators. The coffin and hearse were peculiarly shaped 
and decorated ; the first was perfectly flat on the top, and 
widened gradually from the foot to the head. There were 
three coffins in [one grave, placed one above another ! A 
by-stander told us, that after a certain period, allowed for 
the decomposition of the body, the bones of the dead were 
taken up from the earth and deposited in a room over a 
church ; and when that was full, the bones were removed 
to a ship, kept for the purpose, and carried out to sea! 
The hearse resembled a flat-sided narrow coach ; it was 
surmounted with a ghastly escutcheon, consisting of a 
sculptured death's head and cross-bones, entwined with 
laurel leaves ; over the door, behind, was a large hour- 
glass, between a pair of death's wings. The driver was 
clad in black, and wore, what seemed to me, the usual badge 
of menial public office in Holland, a cocked-haf. The 
horses were black, and covered with palls that almost 
touched the ground. 

Our next aquatic excursion, from Amsterdam, was to the 
village of Saardam^ famed for wship-building and wind-mills, 
of which a goodly number were whirling away as briskly, 
when we arrived, as in the days of the pilgrimage and pere- 
grinations of the knight of La Mancha and his pursy squire. 

The weather was cold and misty, but we were snugly 
wafted on a small steamer, that plied daily between Amster- 
dam and the little haven we sought. The inhabitants of Saar- 
dam are said to have boasted, that if given only two 
months notice, they could build a ship for every week in the 
year — fifty-two ships in twelve months ! What a task ! ! 
But it was neither their ships nor their wind-mills that al- 
lured us to their village, but a sionple rude hut, a venerable 
relic of departed greatness — in plainer terms, it was the 



223 

hut in which the Czar of Russia, Peter the Great, resided; 
during two years, for the purpose of studying and practising 
the art of ship-building ; to w'hich he w^as prompted by his 
unquenchable thirst for universal knowledge. Here in dis- 
guise, and under the assumed name of Michaelhoff, he 
sedulously labored, w-ith common w^orkmen, until he had 
acquired the information and skill he desired to possess. I 
am no friend to despots, however dazzling and fascinating 
their mental qualities and attainments may be ; and my re- 
collection of some occurrences and traits, mentioned in the 
annals of the renowned Czar, as I stood within his lowly 
habitation, were not by any means of a pleasing nature. 
I thought of his furious and ungovernable fits of passion — 
the cruel punishments he caused to be inflicted, and some^ 
times even arssisted at personally ! — of his unkind treat- 
ment and unjust repudiation of his first wife, Eudocia 
Feodoreuna — his indifference and harshness to their only 
son, the unfortunate Alexis Petrowitch, w^ho, though a man 
of intemperate and vicious habits, was still his child, and, 
perhaps, had acquired those very habits in consequence of 
his father's shameful neglect of his education ; but, above 
all, I thought of the dark deep stain, impressed upon the 
Czar's character, by the suspicious and mysterious death of 
that same ill-fated son, and my admiration of the abilities 
and brilUant achievements of the Emperor was almost lost 
in the remembrance of his brutality and tyranical sway. 

A lofty shed, covered with flaming red tiles and resting 
upon open arches, is erected over the hut, to shield it from 
storm and sun. Within are two small rooms; that on the 
left hand was the Czar's work-shop ; that on the right, 
through which you enter, was his chamber, and, they assure 
you, contains the identical articles of furniture he used, viz: 



224 

three triangular chairs, painted ash-colour ; a long oaken 
table and a cupboard. In the closet is shewn a very 
broad, low shelf, upon which he laid his bed. The hearth 
and chimney were extremely w^ide, the former paved with 
immense square bricks, and each side of the fire-place was 
covered with glazed white tiles, adorned with pictures, 
done in brown, such as I have often seen in old-fashioned 
houses in New-York. Over the mantelpiece were two in- 
scriptions, upon marble slabs, inserted into the wall. Upon 
one were engraved the names of ^' Peter Magno,^' ^'Alex- 
ander,^' — and we were told that the Emperor Alexander 
put it there, with his own hands, after the battle of Water- 
loo ; but it is not probable that he took that trouble, when 
masons were so near and numerous. The second inscrip- 
tion was placed there by order of government, and was very 
long. In 1825, an inundation overspread the floor of the 
hut to the depth of several feet, but subsided without doing 
any injury. 

Before leaving Saardam, we visited a collection of land- 
scapes, figures, birds, flowers and animals, cut out of white 
paper, and so inimitably executed, that they resemble 
beautiful reliefs in marble ; and in a neighbouring church, 
we saw a curious picture, representing a ferocious bull 
v/hich had killed a man and a woman. The picture hung 
over I heir tombs. 

In the same church was a singular pulpit, supported by 
a pelican, feeding its young with the blood from its breast ; 
meant, I suppose, to be emblematical of the blood of the 
Redeemer^ shed for us. 

We returned to Amsterdam in rain and snow, both fallino- 
at the same time; thus ended our day's adventures, and 
thus ends my narration for the present. 



225 

NUMBER IX. 



A SOJOURN AT GHENT. 

* * * ^ * No; my promise is not forgotten, and 
if you will rest with me under the shade of this wide- 
spreading tree, which brings to mind the famous elm at 
Worms, I will comply with your desire, and continue my 
reminiscences, happy to know that they afford you amuse- 
ment. 

We were, last evening, admiring a fine engraving of 
Ghent, and now I will tell you about some remarkable 
things we saw there. We remained only a few days, but 
they were rendered very agreeable by the kindness and 
hospitality of the Duke and Dutchess of Saxweimar, who 
reside in the city, he being commandant of it. 

You may remember our becoming acquainted with him 
at Albany and Lebanon, in the state of New- York, where 
he joined our party in an excursion to the Shaker village — 
his afterwards visiting us here in Richmond, and being, that 
same summer, one of our fellow-passengers in the voyage 
to Liverpool? Well, when he met us accidentally, two 
years afterwards, in a church at Ghent, he greeted us most 
cordially, introduced us to his family and entertained us 
most hospitably at his palace; where we dined in company 
with several intelligent and distinguished foreigners, like 
ourselves, invited guests. 

The Duke, as you know him personally, it is needless to 
describe to you, farther than, that he was as gay and agreeable 
at home as we found him abroad, and quite as humorous and 
full of anecdote. The Dutchess, who is sister to the present 



226 

Queen Dowager of England, was a tall, dignified, gentle- 
mannered woman, as quiet as his Grace was lively. In the 
evening their three carriages w^ere drawn up in front of the 
palace, to convey those, who choose to go, to the theatre, 
to hear Madame Mondonville sing. She was there con- 
sidered a great vocalist; but we did not think her comparable 
to Mademoiselle Sontag, whom we had heard, a few months 
previous, in Paris. Guillon, and his pupil Dorus. accon:- 
panied her on the flute. 

The theatre of Ghent is neither large nor handsome, 
but we W'Cre struck with the peculiar appropriateness 
of the decoration of the first and second tier of boxes. 
On the pannels of the first, the best scenes, from the 
chief w^orks of various Dramatists, were painted ; and 
above these, on the pannels of the second tier, busts, painted 
in relief, represented the authors themselves. 

Now, all this is but a preamble — the things I am to de- 
scribe to you, as being remarkable, are as follows: . . 

. and, as chief, I will begin with the Beguinage, an 
establishment of religious females; whose number, at the 
period of our visit, amounted to seven hundred. They re- 
sided in a collection of small houses, built wnthin the same 
enclosure, and dedicated to different Saints, the name of 
each Saint being inscribed, in large letters, on each front 
door. In the midst of this little town (so one may call it) 
stands the church ; this bears the name of Saint Elizabeth, 
who is considered the Patroness of the Beguines, as the 
members of this extraordinary sisterhood are termed. Nuifs, 
they cannot be styled, for they take no vows, and are at 
liberty to return to the world, and society, whenever they 
choose, and even to marry ! 

Only single women are ever received as members, and none 



227 

need apply who cannot pay a stipulated sum, and produce 
a certificate of her respectibility and worthiness. Each 
lives upon her own resources, and if unable to hire a ser- 
vant, must cook and w^ash for herself There were, gene- 
rally, three or four residing in the same dwelling ; some, 
however, who w^ere more fortunate in possessing a larger 
portion of this world's goods, kept their own domicil. The 
sisterhood is divided into companies, and every company is 
under the charge of a directress, and a superior reigns over 
alL They had a flourishing school for poor children — 
taught them to read and make lace, and the work w^as sold 
for the benefit of the little pupils and their parents. Some 
of the children w^ere not more than six years old, and it 
was quite astonishing to witness their dexterity and rapidity, 
in moving the pins and w^eaving the meshes of the lace. 

At night we w^ent to see the Beguines at vespers, and a 
solemn vsight it was. They were clad in long w^hite veils ; 
and in the dim light of their cathedral, which was furnished 
with only a few scattered lamps, they resembled kneeling 
spectres. For a considerable time the effect was kept up, 
by their remaining perfectly motionless. They were a 
cheerful, lively set, in the morning, while engaged at their 
various employments ; but in the evening, a more demure 
and sanctified collection of faces you never beheld I 

This gave me a favorable opinion of them, for I like to 
see christians gay and cheerful at all times, unless they are 
under the rod of affliction ; and while at their devotions, in 
public or private, when they cannot be too serious and 
contemplative. 

The next remarkable thing I remember seeing, was the 
funeral of a youth of fifteen, who was a pupil in the Royal 
College of Ghent, and w^as so much beloved by his com- 



228 

panions that they would not suffer his corpse to be carried 
in a hearse, but bore it to the ^rave on their shoulders while 
the hearse followed empty. They wore black crape bands 
on their arms, and were preceded by a boy decorated with 
a broad orange coloured ribbon, from which was suspended 
several medals, which the deceased had gained in contests 
for literary honors. The coffin was covered with a white 
silk pall, richly embroidered, andon the top of that stood 
a basket, made of silver bullion, and filled with artifical 
flowers. 

We loitered on the pavement till the mournful procession 
had passed, and was lost to our view in turning the corner 
of a street. A previous engagement prevented our wit- 
nessing the ceremony of consigning the body to the tomb, 
■which w^e regretted, as it would have been an interesting 
as w^ell as solemn scene ; and you know my predilection for 
whatever kindles deep and sacred feelings. 

In the course of our rambles, next morning, we entered 
the Town Hall ; and there, collected in a spacious room, we 
saw more than a dozen babies, in the arms of as many nurses. 
On asking the cause of this marvellous infantine assem- 
blage, we were informed the children were brought there 
to be baptised ; that the laws of the country enacted, that 
as soon as a child was born, the father, accompanied by two 
witnesses, should go to the chief magistrate and give him 
notice of the birth and sex of the child, (which are imme- 
diately recorded,) and that afterwards, when old enough, it 
w^as usually taken to the same place to be christened. 

Near this room was another, called the '' Hall of Mar- 
riage,^^ in which the votaries of Hymen were united, for 
better or for worse, by the civil magistrate. I can't say 
anything in favor of either of these customs. I think 



229 

baptism and marriage are rites too sacred and solemn, 
to be performed by any other than a minister of religion. 

By the bye, talking of children^ reminds me that we saw 
a tomb in the church of St. Nicholas, at Ghent, which was 
erected over a man and his wife, who had thirty-one! and 
lost them all in a month 1 1 So said the inscription upon 
the stone. I do not believe it ! 

In the cathedral^ we were astonished at the singularity of 
design, and the beautiful carving of the pulpit. It was of 
wood, richly sculptured, and ornamented with marble has 
reliefs. The top or ceiling was supported by the branches 
of two trees, filled with leaves and golden apples, one of 
which a serpent (alias his Satanic Majesty in that shape) 
held in his mouth, while his scaly length entwined the 
trunk of the tree. At the foot of the steps, leading up to 
the pulpit, stood two angels, the size of life, and made of 
white marble, pointing to the reptile. Under the pulpit 
(which was of antique form, and rested on a stand or stem) 
were the figures of Time and Truth ; the latter grasped 
an open book. A curtain, admirably carved and of wood, 
enveloped the top of the pulpit, and was raised in front by 
two little angels — also of while marble — bearing a golden 
cross. 

The baptismal font was almost as singular as the pulpit, 
and consisted of an azure and star spangled globe, resting 
on angels amid clouds of white marble. The cover was 
decorated with a silver cloud, a golden cross and serpent. 
It was said to be the identical font that was used at the 
christening of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who you 
know was born in the city. 

We descended into the subterranean portion of the ^ 
cathedral, to see the tomb of the last Bishop of Ghent. 



230 

It was composed of a material called ^^ pierre de tcuclie/' 
(touch stone) by which the purity of gold was tested ; if 
unadulterated^ it left a mark. I entirely forget whether 
we experimented on the occasion ; I rather think w did, 
although, at this distant period of time, I cannot determine ; 
but one thing is sure, the result has made no impression on 
our minds if the go\A did upon the stone. 

The cathedral is rich in marble columns, monuments, 
statues and paintings. Among the pictures is the ^^ paschal 
lamb/^ by Van Eyck, sometimes styled *^ John of Bruges/' 
whence he came. He is reputed to be the inventor of the 
art of mixing colors with oil. 

We visited a convent of the order of " La Visitation," 
where bobinet was embroidered. It was done by poor 
orphans whom the nuns took under their protection until 
twenty-four years of age, when, having by that time learnt 
the trade, they were sent forth into the world to support 
themselves, by their own skill and industry. 

We saw them busily plying their needles, and observed, 
with surprise, that the most intricate and difficult patterns 
were imitated without paper or marks to assist them ; the 
meshes served as guides. We were desirous to have 
witnessed the manufacturing of lace, but had encountered 
such delay and trouble ere we obtained admission to the 
bobinet establishment, that we resolved not to attempt an 
inspection of a lace one. The Abbess was old, morose, 
and so disobliging, that she would not have let us in, had it 
not been for an order from the Vicar General, an aged and 
affable priest, who treated us with much suavity and 
kindness ; we also found ^^ sister Anne," a young nun 
who went about with us as cicerone, very amiable and 
communicative ; she was very lively too, and carried us 



231 

into a parlour to shew us some pictures and a piano : 
^' Here, she said, we amuse ourselves with dancing quadrilles 
every evening, and the novices play the part of genthnien.^^ 
On expressing my amazement that dancing, generally one 
of the hug-hears of religious communities, should be 
allowed in the convent, she replied that they there con- 
sidered it not only an innocent, but a rational amusement, 
and a great contributor to health : '^ If we were to mingle 
with the world, and spend money and time in dressing 
up ourselves for the sake of dancing, we should view it 
very differently ; but here there is no such desire or induce- 
ment, and we dance merely for the pleasure of the music 
and the benefit of the exercise." A sage process of 
reasoning ! thought I, and we came away well pleased 
with " sister Anne " and her argument. 

In the commencement of our conversation, beneath this 
'•' lord of the forest," I alluded to the great elm at Worms, 
which it somewhat resembles; and before leaving our 
umbrageous retreat I will mention a tradition concerning it, 
that is firmly believed by the people of its neighborhood, 
in fact by most of the ermans ; it is rather iiicredihle, I 
confess, but you shall hear it nevertheless : it is said to 
have been planted by the Reformer himself, during the 
sitting of the Diet at Worms in 1521, when he appeared 
before Charles the Fifth; and so eloquently disputed with 
the Pope's nuncio, on the subject of the new faith, then 
just shedding a glimmering light over the Christianized 
world. 

One morning Luther was warmly maintaining the truth of 
his doctrine, while accompanying some members to the Diet : 
As they walked along, he, twirling round a small switch he 
had picked up, suddenly stopped, and thrusting it into 



232 

the ground^ exclaimed \Yith great fervour : *• If this twig 
should live and grow, then is my doctrine sound and true ; 
if it should perishj then am I deceived and in error, and I 
solemnly invoke the aid of Heaven thus to prove, whether 
my faith be right or wrong V^ 

The next day, on passing the same spot, lo ! the little 
branch had taken root and budded ! ! Such a miracle, you 
may suppose, soon converted many persons to the Lutheran 
belief. 

And, now, let us wend our w^ay homewards, for a storm 
seems brooding in the sky, and my reminiscences have 
come to a close for the present ; some future time, perhaps, 
I may resume them. 



CYPRESS LEAVES. 



** Dark tree I still sad, when others' grief is fled !'' 

BYRoy. 



A SKETCH FROM NATURE. 

Near Richmond, Virginia, on the banks of James River, 
that great and rapid artery of the "Old Dominion,'^ stands 
Powhatan, a beautiful time-honored mansion, the hereditary 
seat of the Mayo family. The spot is peculiarly interest- 
ing, as being the site once occupied by the Indian chief 
whose name it bears, and the abode of his gentle daughter, 
Pocahontas. 

Traditionary lore informs us, (and who would wish to 
doubt ?) that it was the scene of her romantic attachment, 
and interposition for her ungrateful lover, Captain 
Smith. The very stone upon which his head was laid for 
decapitation, when, like a guardian spirit, she appeared and 
rescued him from the death-blow, is pointed out in the gar- 
den, while a more massive rock in the house yard is desig- 
nated as the simple and unlettered sepulchre of her relent- 
ing father. 

Around this rock a few young cedars are planted, and on 
its smooth grey surface, the impressions of two feet may be 
traced ; faint indeed, but still there they are, evidently the 
print of a child's and a man's foot ; when, hoio, or by whom 
engraven, none living can tell. On a neighbouring height^ 
o'er towering the river, is the Mayo Cemetery, where ven- 



234 

erable cedars, and other trees of yore, shelter some antique 
granite tombs and several white marble monuments of mo- 
dern date, which, though less interesting to a disciple of 
^'Monk Barns,'' are more precious to individuals of the pre- 
sent generation. Besides these sacred memorials, there are 
many stoneless, turfy hillocks, whose long grass, waving in 
the summer gale, w^hispers to the heart the names — the 
unchiselled, yet unforgotten, cherished names — of dear ones 
reposing below. 

'Tis a sweet and tranquilizing spot; and often at the 
close of day, my fancy loiters over its beauties and melan- 
cholly attractions, for within its solemn precincts lie buried 
my own Dead ! Thus sadly musing one evening, busy 
thoughts w^ove themselves into the following stanzas : 

In twilight's musing, mystic lionr, 

Visions of the past come o'er me, 
And Mem'ry, with her thrilhng power, 

Brings the loved and lost before me. 

Those who now in graves lie sleeping, 
Near Powhatan's* fast flowing tide, 

Aronnd whose death-conch we stood weeping* 
When they loolz'd farewell ! and died ! 

Oh ! w^hose tombs the light is gleaming 
Through each tall dark cedar's crest, 

And the slanting sun-rays streaming 
Athwart their mournful place of rest. 

In the dim hour the}^ appear ! 

I trace their features ! hear them speak! 
'Tis but a dream — they are not here — 

And tears bedew my burning cheek. 



'" The Indian appelktion and ancient name oi James' River. 



235 

From Earth tliey are forever gone ! 

Forever from our home-land riven ! 
They left us lonely — one by one — 

Called to a brighter home in Heaven. 

Death, ruthless, broke the cords of love, 
Which sweetly bound our hearts together; 

Removed the idols of our grove, 

And doomed the flowers of Hope to wither. 

Some left us in their strength and bloom — 
O'er their young forms the dirge we sung ; 

Grief-struck, we bore them to the tomb. 
And laid them there, our sires among. 

And some departed ripe in years, 
Whose annals, like a moral page, 

Instruct us to resist Earth's snares. 
And emulate a virtuous age. 

Be not the precious record slighted. 
But studied as the ev'ning star. 

When to the 'wilder'd and benighted 
It shines a guide to homes afar. 

Then will it prove to us a mine 

Of golden thoughts and precepts pure ; 

Teach us to sue for faith divine. 
Life's bitter trials to endure. 

Lead us to seek God's holy fane — 

To kindle, at his altar there, 
Devotion's sacred, Heaven-born flame, 

The life-breath of the Christian's prayer. 

The flame which lights our way to bliss. 
And constant burns in densest gloom, 

Infuses strength the rod to kiss^ 

And makes each thorn a flow'ret bloom. 

Thus our Loved of the *' spirit land'' 
Still shall speak, from their blest abode, 

To the wand'ring, weary pilgrim band. 
Toiling yet through Earth's rough road. 



236 

OBITUARY STANZAS, 

ON THE 

DEATH OF A BEI^OYED CHIL.D. 

Oh ! where is she whose eyes' dark blue, 

And glossy, raven hair. 
And lips and cheeks of rosy hue, 

And brow benign and fair, 

Were render'd lovely by a heart 

Where every virtue glow'd, 
And by a mind where Heav'n and Art 

Rare bounties had bestowed ? 

Alas ! she is no longer here — 
She was too good, too pure ! 
To linger on this earthly sphere, 
Where sin and grief endure. 

Reader ! she was her parents' pride — 
Their source of hope and pleasure ! 

Now, both are to their hearts denied — 
Now, gone ! their richest treasure ! 

Oh ! 'tis as if a meteor bright. 

With quick and sudden gleam. 
Had crossed their path, and made Life's night 

More dark and dreary seem I 

So good, so lovely, and so dear ! 

At eight years old to die ! 
The awful stroke is hard to bear. 

Though sent by Him on high. 
Nor can we ever *' kiss the rod,^^ 

Or say, " Thy will be done !" 
Unaided by Almighty God, 

His Spirit and his Son. 

Then let our prayers ascend to Heaven, 

This blessing to implore — 
That strength may to our souls be given, 
Whilst weeping, to adore ! 



237 

Lines on the Death of a Beloved Niece^ 
MARIA MAYO SCOTT, 

WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF SIXTEEN. 

Chant the requiem for the dead ! 

The beautiful and young ; 
For her whose spirit pure has fled 

To realms from whence it sprung. 

Tell of the virtues she possessed, 

Who on the bier lies low, 
With cold, clasp'd hands upon that breast 

Which ever felt for woe. 

Sooth ye her parents' dire dispair, 
To such bereavement doomed ; 
Then chant the requiem as ye bear 
Their loved one to the tomb. 

Oh ! she was beauteous as the rose, 

And joyous as the doe 
That lightly bounds o'er Alpine snows, 

Beneath the bright sun's glow. 

Pure she was as a cnrystal rill, 

Within its banks' of flowers ; 
Sweet as the fragrance they distil 

Around the richest bowers. 

Ah ! gently lay her in the grave. 
With solemn rite and prayer ; 

He who has ta'en is He who gave — 
Murmur we may not dare. 

Then chant the requiem for the dead. 

The beautiful and young ; 
To Heaven her sainted soul has fled, 

The realm from whence it sprung. 



238 

TTTILIGHT. 

Sacred to me the twilight hour— 
Then Memory, with magic power, 

Recalls her look — her voice — 
And Fancy soars with rapid flight 
From Earth to Heav'n, where seraphs bright 

Around God's throne rejoice. 

Among those seraphs sees she one, 
Whose beaming eye and radiant zone 

Seem brighter than the rest ; 
It beckons ! speaks! — " Dear mother, see ! 
Behold how in Eternity 

Thy favoiir'd child is blest ! 

Here all is holy, pure and fair — 
Here enters, never, sin nor care ; 

But love and joy prevail : 
Our Father's wond'rous works to scan — 
To praise Him for redeeming man. 

And each new spirit hail. 

Form our delights, and may be thine, 
My mother ! if thou wilt resign 

Thyself to His decree : 
Unmurmuring, run thy mortal race — 
Trust, love, obey, and through His grace 

Thou soon shalt be with me !'' 

My God, let not the call be vain ! 
Help me each murmur to restrain, 

And grant me faith and love : 
Oh ! ever bend me to thy will, 
Whate'er it send — be it suffering still, 

Or blessing from above ! 



239 

THE MANIAC, 

Fate sheds o'er me her deepest gloom — 

A miserable wretch am I ! 
Blacker than shades of night my doom — 

Would I could lay me down and die ! 

What fearful memories o'er me steal ! 

How wearily wears the passing day ! 
In vain to Heav'n each sad appeal, 

Though hourly for relief I pray. 

Lingering thus on Life's bleak shore, 
While waves of sorrow round me roll ; 

Wreck 'd hopes my flowing tears deplore, 
And fell Dispair weighs down my soul. 

Yes — thou art mine, and I am thine, 
. Thou vulture of the human heart ! 
Beneath thy ravages I pine — 

Where'er I turn, dread power! thou art. 

THE HARP or THE DEPARTED! 

Strike not that harp ! Alas ! how could I bear 
Again its mellow, dulcet sound to hear ? 
When ev'iy note of those silvery cords, 
With eloquence keener than piercing words, 
Would tell of the past, and the lovely Dead, 
And of hopes that died when her spirit fled ? 

Ah, touch it not ! to me each thrilling tone 
Would sound more plaintive than the ring-dove's moan ; 
Would seem that voice beloved, now hushed in death ! 
The voice that was sweet as a zephyr's breath 
When it comes perfumed with odors of flowers, 
The richest exhaled from the loveliest bowers. 

Strike not the harp ! My very soul would weep, 
As o'er its chords thy snowy fingers sweep. 
Oh, be it ever thus! — untouched^ unstrung ! 
And on its treasured frame, pale wreaths be hung — 
Emblems of her^ whose bright and early bloom 
So soon has withered in the cold, cold tomb ! 



240 

LINES IN MEMORY OF THE 

r.ATE MRS. HENINGHAM H. LYONS, 

OF RICHMOND, VA. 

I knew tliee in onr girlhood, when life was fresh and fair — 
Our hopes as bright as morning's light, 
Our hearts devoid of care. 

And well do I remember the merry, happy hours. 
We spent in play each holiday 
'Midst singing birds and flowers. 

How often, with dear school-mates, such pleasant walks we took, 
In youthful ranks, along the banks 
Of our canal and brook. 

In those days, those happy days, how bright thy cheeks did glow, 
With rosy health, the richest wealth 
Kind nature can bestow. 

Thy hair was of a golden hue, bewitching was thine eye. 
And Cupid's wile seemed in thy smile. 
And fragrance in thy sigh. 

And well do I remember, how in the sprightly dance, 
Thy winsome grace and beaming face 
Would rivet many a glance. 

In after years of womanhood, we greeted thee a bride ; 
Beneath the sun, no lovelier one 
E'er stoojd by bridegroom's side ! 

Time gHded on with silken wing — we saw thee a fond mother; 
A beauteous race thy home did grace, 
Each rivalling the other. 



241 

On, on sped Time — then sickness came — then death!— Thou 

past from earth ! 
Ah, many a tear upon thy bier 
From weeping eyes gushed forth! 

Yes, friend beloved and cherished ! we've looked upon thee dead! 
In shroud arrayed— on death-couch laid — 
Then borne to earth's cold bed ! 

And there, within the open grave, we heard the thrilling sound 
Of the clods that slid on thy coffin's lid, 
When the spade was passed around 

By those among thy funeral train who joined in the sad rite, 
And piled that heap, above thy sleep, 
Which hides thee from our sight. 

'Tis true our grief is selfish, for we know that thou art blest 
In Heaven above, where all is love. 
And the weary soul finds rest. 

Yet tears will fall like rain-drops, when mem'ry turns to thee, 
And fondly traces scenes and places 
Were thou wert wont to be : 

Then paints the gentle virtues which so adorned thy life. 
Gracing each sphere, filled by thee here, 
Of sister, mother, wife. 

Farewell, farewell, sweet spirit ! our guardian angel be ; 
Pray for us ! Pray ! Guide us on the way 
That leads to Heaven and thee. 



242 

THE MOTHER'S LAMENT, 

I love to listen to the murmur'd song 
Of zephyrs revelling o'er beds of flowers; 

Their airy music, as it floats along, 

Speaks to my heart of past and hallowed hours, 

When that sweet rainbow of my life — our boy — 

Solaced each care and heightened every joy. 

Brilliant in beauty as the humming-bird, 
When its soft plumage ghtters in the sun — 

Sportive as lambkin of the fleecy herd — 
As gentle too — was our lamented one. 

His merry laugh still echoes in mine ear ; 

His fairy footsteps still I seem to hear! 

And can it be ? Oh, is it not a dream ? 
That he has \eiu forever^ earth's fair scene! 
He, that w^as so loved, so beauteous, and so bright ! 
Who, to my soul, was breath, was life, was light ! 
In the dark tomb has that dear form been laid 1 
Was't by his bier we knelt and wept and prayed ? 
While funeral rite and psalm, at twilight dim. 
Was said and chaunted (Oh, my God!) o'er him! 
'Twas even so ! — Death claimed him for his own, 
And made us desolate, heart-stricken, lone ! 
Now, oft like Cain, I feel as if my share 
Of earthly wo is more than I can bear. 
Now, soon to rest within that deep cold grave 
Where sleeps my child — so still! — is all I crave. 
Till the last trump shall peal along the skies. 
And the awaken'd, conscious Dead arise ! 
Then in communion sacred, blest and sweet, 
Our angel cherub we again shall meet. 



243 

THE INVOCATION. 

Are the^ sot all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation? 

Hebkewb, chapter x, verse 17. 

Gentle Spirit, hover o'er me, 

Be my guardian day and night ; 
Help me, keep me, I implore thee ! 

Guide me to the realms of light ! 

Now, an angel bright with glory I 

Fancy paints thee to mine eyes ; 
Yet fond nature will deplore thee, 

Though thou art in Paradise. 

Oh, thou wert by me more cherished 

Than aught else on earth beside ; 
And with thee those hopes have perish'd, 

Which so cheered my life's dull tide. 

Worldly pleasures no more charm me — 

From their spells I now am free ; 
Thoughts of death no more alarm me, 

I would die to be with thee. 

Come, then, loved one ! hover o'er me — 

Leave me nof, by day or night ; 
Aid me, keep me, I implore thee ! 

Guide me to the realms of light i 



244 



ON THE DEATH OF THE 

liATE MRS. MARIA B MURRAY, 

OF NEW YORK. 

Stranger, " In mourHful peals, prolonged and clear, 
A solemn knell falls on the ear ; 
And see ! slow moving o'er yon plain, 
X dark draped hearse and funeral train ! 
Oh, whose the form thus borne along, 
And followed by that weeping throng?" 

Mourner, '* She who, there^ in death reposes, 
Was to our sad hearts most dear ! 
He who all events disposes, 

Called her from this earthly sphere : 

Called that tender wife and mother, 
By so many loved so well ! 

From this fair world to another — 
And with grief our bosoms swell. 

Goodness — genius — ^beauty — wealth — 
All were her's — a precious dower! 

But, ah, the needful boon of health 
Denied — she faded like a flower ! 

Ne'er shall loving eyes behold her 
Grace again her cheerful home ! 

Never more fond arms enfold her ! 
Never more to us she'll come !" 

Stranger. " Calm thee, mourner I cease bewailing ! 
Think how she in Heav'n is blest : 
Then let faith o'er woe prevailing, 
Each rebellious thought arrest. 

Oh, lament her not so deeply : 
To rejoin her now prepare ; 

Let her pure example keep thee 
From the sins which taint us here." 



245 

A MONODY ON THE 

DEATH OF JOHN ROBERTSON, 

OF PHILADELPHIA, 
Who died at Riclimond, Va., Nov. »», 183^* 

ADDRESSED TO HIS MOTHER. 

Mourn not for him, that gentle youth. 
Whose bosom was the seat of truth — 
Of virtue, and of honor bright. 
Of all that could our hearts delight. 

Ah, mourn him not ! an angel now. 
With God's own signet on his brow ; 
He roves the skies, and his the love 
Of cherubim and saints above. 

With them he shares the bliss of Heaven, 
The glorious boon to pure ones given ; 
And he was pure, your gentle son — 
Then weep not that his course is run. 

So fitted for a happier sphere, 
Would you have had him linger here, 
Amid these tainted scenes of earth. 
Where hope and joy scarce have their birth, 

Ere from us they are rudely torn. 
And we left weeping and forlorn ? 
Our life is like the autumn leaf. 
Varied in hue, its bloom as brief. 

And can you wish him back again, 
To feel the stings of grief and pain, 
Which are the doom of all our race 
While its perplexing maze we trace ? 

Would you recall his ransomed soul, 
In mercy freed from sin's control, 
And re-subject it to that power. 
So baneful e'en in Eden's bower ? 



246 

All, no ! though numbered with the dead, 
For him let not our tears be shed, 
Nor sighs of bitter woe expressed ! 
Oh, why bewail the Dead thus blest? 

Flow for ourselves, ye rapid tears ! 
For when from earth these disappears, 
One of the worthiest of her train, 
Our^s is the loss — their^s the rich gain I 



LINES ON THE 

DEATH OP MRS. JOSEPH MARX. 

Mother beloved, farewell ! thy cares are o'er 
And thy dear spirit treads that blissful shore, 
The *' promised land" of rest — 
And yet we mourn and languish for thee here, 
And to thy mem'ry shed the bitter tear, 
With direst grief opprest. 

And when assembled round the household hearth, 
So late the scene of sweet domestic mirth, 
And joys serene and pure — 
Oh, then, we feel the dreary void that's there ; 
We miss thy voice — we see thy vacant chair. 
And our sad loss deplore. 

Mother beloved ! we miss thee every hour, 
When morning glows or evening shadows lower. 
Or night's dark veil is spread. 
But there is one who loved thee — now so lone ! 
Sickness is on him still ; and thou, whose kindly tone 
Didst soothe him, — thou art dead I 

Oh may thy spirit visit his repose 

In the calm hour, when mystic dreams disclose 

Their changeful fantasies ; 

And may thy tomb be unto us a shrine, 

Whereal, from this cold sphere, to scenes divine. 

Our thoughts and hopes shall rise. 



247 

STANZAS ON THE 

DEATH OF MR. JO-EPH MARX. 

Peace to thy shade ! Oh, thou who wert most kind, 

Most generous, noble and smcere ; 
In thee how many vh'tues we beheld combined, 

Now *'lost to sight, but still to memory dear !" 

Thou wert the loving father and the faithful friend, 

The tender husband and the brother true ; 
Thou wert the cordial host, and oft would hie to blend, 

With thee and thine, a social happy crew. 

At noon-tide they would gather round thy festive board ; 

At eve oft circle gaily round thy hearth, 
And there, blithe as its Haze, each gleeful soul forth poured 

The merry jest, awakening harmless mirth. 

There were thy children, too, and one beloved who trod 
With thee the maze of life, thy fate to share — 

Ah, where are they ? In other homes ! And she ? With God ! 
And thou ? We trust thou'rt gone to join her there. 

For thou hast past from earth, and lonely is thy hall, 
Where erst both sparkling wit and wine went round ; . 

While welcome wreathed each cup, and greeting kind met all, 
And airy footsteps tripped to music's sound. 

O, well may all, who read these sad and simple lines, 

Garner the solemn warning they convey, 
That as the shade of night before the sun declines, 

Thus silently and surely fade away 

The pageantries of earth ! — its hopes, its joys, its care ; 

Then let us strive, while time to us is given, 
(Time flies apace, and dread eternity draws near!) 

To seek the narrow path which leads to Heaven. 



248 

EPITAPH FOR AN INFANT. 

Occasioned hy the Death of a sweet Babe, the infant son of Mr. and 
Mrs, Jefferson PeytoNj during the summer of 1851. 

Here, stranger, pause and read 

Upon this little tomb. 
How earthly blessings fade. 

And perish in their bloom. 

A tender form lies here, 

Committed to the dust. 
That lived but one short year 

Ere God resumed his trust. 

Beneath this Httle mound, 

Where oft the violet blows. 
Deep, deep within the ground. 

We laid our withered rose. 

We planted it in earth. 

We hope to bloom in Heaven ; 
For pure as at its birth. 

To God our flower was given. 

And when the orbs of night 

Gleam on the sacred spot, 
The breeze, in whispers light, 

Murmurs, /org-c^ me not. 



249 

THE ADIEU. 

TO ONE WHO HAD BEEN A COMFORTER IN AFFLICTION. 

Dearest Marie ! Fare thee well ; 

May gentle breezes waft thee on ! 
Thine absence breaks a pleasing spell, 

And sadness reigns, now thou art gone ! 

Thy presence soothed my stricken heart, 
Thy converse cheered my spirits' gloom ; 

Alas ! alas ! that we must part ! 
And I my lonely tasks resume. 

Forget me not, mine own sweet niece ; 

On thee, my thoughts and love shall rest ; 
Adieu ! On Earth, mayst thou have peace ; 

In Heaven, the raptures of the blest ! 



SMILES AFTER TEARS. 



"VIVE LA BAGATELLE!" 



THE WHITE SULPHUR SPRING OF VA. IJV 1836. 

A DESCRIPTIVE BALLAD. 

Oh, the White Sulphur Spring ! the White Sulphur Spring ! 

How pure, how limpid and cool are its waters ! 
Ev'ry year thither borne upon Hope's buoyant wing, 

Hie the Brave, and the Fair, and the Rich, from all quarters. 

Some go to seek pleasure, and some to woo health, 

And others (like Ca3lebs) in search of a wife. 
Whose virtues and charms, tho' unaided by wealth, 

Shall solace their cares and enrapture their life. 

But others there are (the base, sordid elves !) 
Who sigh not for these — their object is money ; 

Ye favoured of Fortune, take care of yourselves ! 
Ah, heed not their love-tales, tho' melting as honey I 

Oh, the White Sulphur Spring ! the White Sulphur Spring 

Can cure ev'ry evil that ever was known ! 
Gout, fever, dyspepsia, and each horrid thing 

That e'er worried the flesh or tormented the bone ! 

How verdant its lawn in the depth of the mountains ! . 

How snug are its cabins, all ranged in a row ! 
What spruce beaus and belles daily quaff at its fountains ! 
So gay and so stylish ! — they make quite a show ! 

When the dinner-bell rings, what a throng sallies forth 
Of maidens and bachelors, husbands and wives ; 

Of Locos and Whigs, from East, West, South and North — 
All talking and walking as if for their lives ! 



252 

At table, what scramhling ! — what bustle and clamor! 

Here, gentlemen calling ; and there, servants running — 
Old Vulcan's stout myrmidons, while at the hammer, 

Could not have occasioned a clatter more stunning ! 

But enough of Terrestrials ! Haste we to Paradise,* 

Where dwell those bright houries whose soft silken chains 

Have entwined many hearts, and forced them to sacrifice 
Friendship's bland feelings for Love's racking pains ! 

You'll find there Miss B., Miss C, and Miss W., 
And some other belles who in Richmond reside ; 

But beware of their charms ! — they have pow'r to trouble you, 
And cause you a torturing ache in the side. 

From Baltimore, Boston, Philadelphia, New- York ; 

From Louisville, Lynchburg, and Edenton city. 
Are fair ones and rare ones ! — just look in that walk ! 

'Tis filled with the graceful, tlie beauteous, the witty ! 

There are songstresses also among the gay train. 
Whose soft notes enchant as they fall on the ear, 

Like those of the syrens whose ravishing strain 
Ulysses of old dared not venture to hear. 

At night, should you wend to Terpsichore hall. 
You'll see there assembled a brilliant colleetion. 

Who form, ev'ry evening, a sociable Ball,. 

Where quadrilles and waltzes are danced to perfection. 

There are Judges and Gen'rals whose names I could mention. 
And Doctors and Lawyers and Statesmen of fame ; 

But to lengthen this ballad is not my intention, 
'Twould be too laborious each one to proclaim. 

Yet, ere I conclude, lo ! a paradox hear ! 

Though Protestants all, yet obey we a Pope,f 
Whose mandates give pleasure whene'er they appear; 

And that long he may reign, most devoutly we hope ! 



f 



* A range of cabins called " Paradise row," from their location. 
f William Pope, Esq., master of ceremonies, by courtesy. 



253 

THE FliOWER GIRL OF BADEN. 

A BALLAD. 

*' Flowers ! flowers ! — who'll buy flowers?" 

Cried a beauteous maiden ; 
•* They're bright and fresh— just culled from bowers 

Within a mile of Baden. 

Here blend the lily and the rose, 

With richest odors laden ; 
They scent the very air that blows 

Along the streets of Baden. 

Or would you violets, to perfume 

The trunks your clothes are laid in ? 
Behold them in my basket bloom — 

You can't find such in Baden." 

Thus every day, at early dawn, 

Did pretty Minna Vaiden 
Trip o'er the verdant, dewy lawn, 

To sell her wares in Baden. 

And truly, she came not in vain 

With lovely nosegays laden ; 
She sold them all, and caught a swain — 

A rich one, too — in Baden. 

Not only her bouquets he bought 

Of the sweet, smiling maiden ; 
But he the humble cottage sought 

Wherein she dwelt near Baden, 

And ask'd her for her heart and hand — 

His suit did Cupid aid in ; 
So she his prayer could not withstand, 

As was soon known in Baden. 

For ere that summer by did glide, 
The blushing blue-eyed maiden 
Consented to become his bride. 
And share his home in Baden : 



254 

Provided that her mother, dear, 
Would leave the cot they staid in, 

And move to town, there to be near 
Her daughter when in Baden. 

'Twas thus arranged, and in the fall 

The happy Minna Vaiden 
Was wedded to young Rodolf Hall, 

The Banker's son in Baden. 

And now she lives a lady bright 

As ever eyes were laid on ! 
In stately mansion, on the right, 

Just as you enter Baden. 

There she rears /ar dearer flowers 

(A rosy boy and maiden) 
Than those she cultured once in bowers. 

Within a mile of Baden. 



Verses sent, with a Satin Pin- Cushion, to a Clergyman, in 1832 

Accept this little gift, my friend ; 
Tho' trifling, yet perchance 'twill tend 
To make you think of me. 
Whene'er for holy rite or prayer, 
Your gown and surplice you prepare, 
And act for love or fee,. 

And when you preach, cold hearts to warm, 

As smooth and graceful as its form 

May all your periods be ! 

And bright and pointed as its pins. 

Your arguments against our sins, 

Whilst rapt, we list to thee. 



265 

A dolorous letter to a friend, 
About a squirrel's cruel end, 
Addressed to Mrs. C. M. B. 
By the writer, J. M. C. 



Dear Caroline, prepare your ear 

A melancholy tale to hear; 

One that perchance will cause a sigh. 

Nay, draw a tear from your bright eye. 

This morning, just as I awoke, 

In came. the cook and thus she spoke: 

(Her words I do remember well. 

For as upon mine ear they fell, 

They seemed a solemn, sad prediction 

Of that which now is my affliction.) 

'' Madam," said she, in doleful tone, 

" Your darling squirrel. Bun, is gone ! 

I've hunted for him here and there. 

In this place, that place, everywhere. 

In vain ! To find him I despair — 

And much I fear the cat's caught Bun.!" 

Alas ! her fears have proved too true. 

As shall be quickly proved to you. 

For, in the cellar, on the ground, 

His skin and bones have since been found. 

Ill fated Bunny ! Precious pet! 

Thy winning ways I'll ne'er forget ! 

Thy severed limbs lie by me yet ; 

Ah, how they kindle fond regret ! 

Why could St thou not have been content, 

And kept within thy snug cage pent ? 

Then, thou wouldst not have been o'er powered 

And by thine enemy devoured. 

But thou werst ever hke a child, 

Too prone to gambol and be wild, - 

And never grave or melancholy — 

Well, dearly hast thou paid for folly ! 



256 

But I must cease to grieve and prate, 

And haste in few words to relate 

When, how and where was brought to ])ass 

This deed so dire. Alas ! Alas ! 

It seems that, tired of being quiet, 

Bunny resolved to have a riot ; 

So, feehng nor demure nor sage, 

He most unT\dsely left his cage. 

Last evemng — about six o'clock, 

(Poor Httle fellow! What a shock !) 

And sported round and round the hou^, 

As froHcsome as any mouse. 

While thus he entertained himself 

Forth stalked grimalkin, horrid elf ! 

And when his tempting form she saw. 

She pounced upon him with her claw. 

Dragged him below, and eat him up ! 

Doubtless because she chose to sup. 

I wish she had been drowTied or strangled 

Ere my favorite she so mangled. 

Tearing piecemeal, limb and feature 

Of the pretts^ playful creature. 

When e'er I think how he was slaughtered, 

I'm fain to have her hung and quartered. 

Really she merits such a death. 

For robbing the dear thing of breath : 

In such a savage manner too ; 

But t'was cat-like — was't not ? — Adieu. 



IMPROMPTU, ON A SARCASTIC ¥OUXG L.ADY. 

She's very pretty, and she's very ssnart — 

WTiat pity 'tis I she's also very^ tari ; 

But for her tnr.rrur. lier face mirn" ^rin each hfart 



257 

NERVOUS FEARS; 

OR, A NIGHT IN A HAUNTED CHAMBER. 

A LESSON FOR THE CREDULOUS. 

It was past midnight, and a taper's light, 

Gleamed fitfully on the hearth ; 
All around was hushed, save the blast which rushed. 

And roared like the sea when wrath. 

'Twas an awful gale ! and at times would wail. 

Like a mourner over the dead ; 
The windows would shake, as if an earthquake 

Began its havoc to spread. 

In this .trying state, at an hour so late, 

Alone in the haunted room. 
With bitter regret, I lament the bet 

I had made to brave its gloom. 

And then I declared, that should I be sjiared 

To greet the next morning's light, 
I would not again encounter such pain 

For miUions of diamonds bright ; 

For the richest prize, ne'er be so unwise. 

As to venture to repose 
In a place so drear, with no mortal near, 

To calm my fears if they rose. 

At length the wind ceased, my terror decreased. 

And I closed my eyes to sleep ; 
But the nap I sought was not to be caught, 

For wide awake did I keep. 

Feeling so dreary, restless and weary, 

O, how I wished for the dawn ! 
The minutes seemed hours, wing'd by wicked powers. 

So heavily they moved on. 

The lamp would glimmer, bum dimmer and dimmer. 
Then shed a blue hght around ; 



258 

A shade on the wall resembled a pall, 
Its fringes traihng the ground. 

The old oak table, of hue so sable, 

Looked like a funeral bier, 
And each antique chair, stiff, high-backed and queer? 

A cannon's stall did appear. 

I lay still as death ! — restrained every breath, 

And traced the forms on the chintz — 
They seemed to advance in a weird-like dance. 

And their uncouth steps to mince. 

I averted my face from the hideous race, 

With their odd, fantastic gait. 
And shuddering with dread, averted my head. 

Expecting a direful fate. 

Soon came a faint cry, and something ran b}^ 

And scampered about the floor ; 
Round and round it flew, the lamp it o'erthrew : 

I shrieked and remember no more. 

Friends found me next day, as senseless as cla^v 

And cold as a block of ice ; 
At my bedside sat my favorite cat, 

By her lay two slaughtered mice. 

There was then no doubt of what caused the rout 

Which scared me out of my wits ; 
Puss raised the turmoil, and upset the oil 

In catching a treat for her kits. 

And how she got there was equally clear ; , 

In my haste the night before, 
I quickly undrest and retired to rest, 

Neglecting to latch the door. 

Puss wandering astray, while seeking for prey, 

And finding the door ajar. 
Had slyly crept in ; then followed the din 

^^ her predatory war. 



259 

THE CURFEW BELL. 

Heavily borne on the evening air, 

The toll of the curfew bell comes — 
And, even should sorrow or sickness be there, 

No Hght must illumine our homes. 
'Tis the stern behest of the Norman king 

Who sits upon England's throne ; 
Ah, little cares he for the ills it may bring,- 

For mercy by him is ne'er shown. 

Not a ray of light 
Through the livelong night 

Allows he the shiv'ring and old, 
As they cower along 
On the dreary hearth-stone 

While the wind blows shrilly and cold. 

At the gay festal board 
With its generous hoard, 

The jest and the wine-song have ceased ; 
And, vexed and down-hearted. 
The guests have departed ; 

The ill-omened bell stopped the feast ! 

O, that horrible bell 
Seems a funeral knell. 

Loud tolling o'er Liberty's grave — 
^ut the period will come. 
When the roll of the drum 

Shall rouse from his torpor each slave; 
For Saxons again their rights "shall maintain, 
And raise the war-cry, the proud king to defy. 



260 

THE FELON'S TRYST. 

Sister, we must part to-night ! 
Then meet me in the dim twilight, 
Beneath the old oak on the green ; 
Ah, meet me then and ihere^ Kathleen ? 
And sever from thy golden hair 
One glossy tress — one ringlet fair, 
A precious, sacred pledge of love, 
To press my heart where'er I rove. 
At twilight hour, upon the green, 
Ah, meet me then and there^ Kathleen r 

Bring with thee, too, that book of prayer 
Which saves (thou sayest) from despair 
The wretch repentant of his crime, 
And fills his soul with hope sublime. 
Alas ! I well deserve my doom, 
Fraught as it is with shame and gloom. 
But penitence comes now too late, 
To shield me from a Felon's fate. 
At t^vi^ght dim, upon the green. 
Ah, meet me then and there^ Kathleen I 

Sister, when we breathe farewell, 

A darksome tale I have to tell : 

^Twill wring, I know, thy gentle heart* 

Yet 7nust be told thee ere we part — 

Now fail me not ! — for ere night wanes. 

Disguised I leave our native plains. 

To seek some distant foreign shore ; 

Then^ dear Katlileen ! we meet no more \ 

At twilight hour, upon the green, 

We part, to meet no more I — Kathleen. 



261 

AN EPIGRAM, 

IVritten on an Occurrence that took place as detailed in the verse. 

Once upon a time an argument arose 

Between two ladies — too colloquial foes. 

How eloquently eacli in turn descanted ! 

How rapidly ! for breath each almost panted. 

To irony at length they both resorted, 

And thus quite sharply with each other sported. 

Said C, "One must be wrapped in mental blindness 

Not to perceive that you^re the milk of kindness /" 

''Indeed !" cried I, "One must be milk andwater^ 

Not to perceive that you are cream of Tartar /" 



A RIDDI.E3 ^VITH ITS ANSWER, 

With twinkling eyes and glossy skin, 
I'm sometimes plump and sometimes thin — 
And dwell a little cave within. 

At night, when most folks go to sleep, 
I slyly from my doorway peep, 
And if all's quiet, forth I creep. 

O, then, on what nice things I dine ! 
Cheese, crackers, cake, but never wine ; 
No taste for liquor e'er was mine. 

Well ! when my savory meals are o'er, 
And hunger twinges me no more. 
Dear ! how I scamper on the floor ! 

But my poor heart goes pit-a-pat. 
If while my capers I am at, 
I hear a footstep or a cat ! 

Then, oh, how I do clip it home ! 
Quicker than when I forth did come 
To eat, and through the house to roam. 

Now, what am I ? A dog ? A hare ? 

Or what ? Come tell me, lady fair : 

"A mouse" — Ah, yes — you've ^o^ me there ! 



262 



SOL.IL,OQUY OF A HYPOCONDRIAC. 

Scene — A darkened room ; rain loelting the window pants ; 
Hypocondriac looks out, comes forward, and groans. 



Heigh-ho ! 
Whatshallldo? 
How desolate ! 
How hard my fate ! 
In truth I am 
A wretched man ! 
Lone and dreary, 
Dull and weary, 
Melancholy, 
Sick of folly. 
Tired of life, 
Its toils and strife, 
Angry factions 
And distractions ; 
Its inflictions 
And restrictions, 
Intermeddhngs, 
Petty peddlings, 
Sland'rous stories 
And false glories ; 
Its busthng din. 
And scenes of sin ; 
Its doubts and fears, 
Regrets and tears ; 
Its hopes betrayed. 
And joys decayed ; 
Its spacious wiles, 
Deceiving smiles, 
Falling pleasures, 
Glianging measures. 
Fleeting wealth, 
And fading health ; 



Foolish notions 
And commotions. 
Eccentricities, 
And duplicities : 
Epidemics, 
And polemics ; 
Its wrong pursuits. 
And their sad fruits. 
Tired, in short, 
Of ev'ry sport, 
Of ev'ry action 
Or attraction ; 
Of frequent sighs 
O'er broken ties ; 
Of probation. 
Lamentation, 
Self-denials 
And hard trials ! 
Discontented 
And tormented, 
A prey to grief — 
With no relief — 
Soured and sadden'd, 
Almost maddened ! 
Fain would I quit. 
Did Heav'n permit. 
This gloomy maze 
Of wo-fr aught days, 
Of months and years, 
Keplete with cares, 
And void of joy 
Without all^Y — 



263 



its dissensions 
And contentions ; 
Its hard-earned gains 
And useless pains ; 
Provocations, 
Separations, 
Speculations, 
And vexations ; 
Its delusions 
And confusions ; 
Endless losses, 
Ceaseless crosses. 
Animosities, 
And pomposities. 
Vain achievements, 
Dire bereavements. 
Distressing sights, 
Invaded rights — 



Be mine a grave 
In earth or wave ! 
A wakeless sleep 
Within the deep ! 
A lowly bed 
Among the dead. 
Who calmly rest 
On Earth's cold breast, 
In that repose 
The Spirit knows, 
When dispossesses! 
Of mortal vest. 
Come then, oh Death ! 
Pass, pass, oh breath ! 
Cease throbbing ! heart. 
I would depart. 



Exit HyjJocondriae. 



AN ENIGMA. 

In the middle of day I always appear, 

Yet am ever in darkness and sadness and fear. 

I'm in anguish and pain, yet always in health. 

In the midst too of happiness, pleasure and wealth. 

I was formed since the flood, yet am part of the ark, 

And seen in a candle, a lamp and a spark. 

Tho' ne'er out of England, I'm always in France^ 

Stay in Paris, Amiens, Bourdeaux and Nantes. 

I'm found in the waves and the foam of the ocean. 

In steamboats and cars, y^t am never in motion. 

I'm always in land, yetn-'rr out of water ; 

I'm always in peace, yet ei-r:o-:.atered in slaughter ; 

In short, I'm in all things ; There's no lake or sea. 

Or island or cape, but contains little me. 



264 

ANSWER TO A NOTE FROM A FRIEND, 

Accompanying the Present of a Fly Brush, 

I've just received, my generous friend, 
Your beauteous gift and playfizl letter ; 

And in return my thanks I send, 

Would I could proffer something better ! 

Oh ! what a comfort it will be ! 

To have the busy, torturing flies, 
Dispersed, and quickly made to flee, 

From their assaults on meats and pies. 

When shall we see you here again ? 

Ere long, we most sincerely trust ! 
To have you with us we are fain. 

Whene'er we can^ so come you must. 

And breakfast, dine, or take your tea. 
Which ever suits your taste or time — 

Too much of you we cannot see ; 
'Tis true in prose as well as rhyme. 

Suppose you come to-day and dine ? 

Ah, do ! You'll give us all great pleasure. 
Our roasting beef seems very fine ; 

Our hour is three, and then you've leisure • 

The family join in this request. 

And send their love, dear Mrs. T. 

Now, pray don't v/ait to be more prest, 
But hasten to your friend, J. C. 



lilncs suggested toy a ConT^ersation TFttli. a Friend* 

I'd have no carved, elaborate stone, 
Within some dim-lit stately dome. 

Which crowds infest : 
A grave — a rural grave for me, 
Beneath some fragrant tree — 

There would I rest. 



.265 

Blithe birds should carol o'er my head, 
Bright dew-drops gem my verdant bed, 

And flow 'rets bloom — 
And woodland breezes freshly blow, 
MingHng with the flowers below 

Their soft perfume. • 

Nurt'ringthe turf to deeper hue, 
And imaging the sky's rich blue 

In minor clear — 
Transparent streams should purl around 
Sweet requiems, murmuring o'er the mound. 

In their career. 

At morn, when fair, with rays divine, 
Our glorious sun should o'er me shine. 

Cheering and bright ! 
And each clear night, the paler beam 
Of moon or stars above me gleam. 

With silvery light. 

Such be the place of my repose, 

When Death shall end life's cares and woes ! 



Verses sent to a ^'riend, witli some Birtli-day Pyes#ifit8« 

Whene'er you view these trifling toys. 
Remember one who loves most dearly. 

Yourself, your daughter, aad your boys — 
And makes the following wish sincerely : 

May gentle Peace your steps attend, 
And laughing Pleasure meet your call! 

May Heav'nly Grace on you descend, 
Prolific as the dews that fall ! 

May this and all your birth-days prove, 
That friends are numerous and true! 

Eager to shew by gifts of love. 
Affection and esteem for y^-'i ! 



266 

AN ADIEU TO "INGL.ESIDE," 

The Seat o/'Henrt Carrington, Esq., in Charlotte Co., Va. 

Farewell, sweet Ingle^ide ! farewell ! 
To thee and all who in thee dwell. 

Whose happv home thou art ; 
The pleasant hours that I have spent 
Withm thy halls, where reigns content, 

Are graven on my heart. 

May birds with music cheer thy bowers, 
Thy garden teem with choicest flowers. 

Fruits flourish on thy trees ! 
And sportive streamlets wend their way 
Among thy hills, beneath the play 

Of light and healthful breeze ! 

Green be thy woods ! and bright thy skies ! 
And rich thy harvests in supplies 

Whenever they come round ! 
And to thine inmates dear and kind, 
With generous hearts and minds refined, 

May Heavenly gifts abound ! 
o 

IMPROMTU STANZAS^ 

Written after a conversation concerning the Pleasures and Pains 

of Memory, 

'Tis sweet to muse o'er Memory's page. 
E'en should we trace each line with tears ; 

Or smile as it recalls the age 

Of happy childhood, voii of cares: 

When hearts were blithesome, warm and true. 

Not sullied by a worldly feeling; 
But pure as drops of morning dew. 

Over violet blossoms stealing. 

Then Time stole by with footsteps Hght, 
And ecatter'd roses as he fled : 



267 

So thomless, sweet and lieav'nly bright ? 
A radiance on Life's path they shed. 

There are who'd taste of Lethes' stream, 
Not so would I — I love the past ! 

And grief, or joy, be Mem'ry's theme, 
I'll woo her poesy to the last. 



SONG, 

Writien hy request^ for a little girl to sing at a Fancy Ball, in 
character of a Siviss Peasant selling Love-hnots. 

Tune — *^ Yankee Doodle. ^^ 

Who'll buy Love-knots ? here they are. 

For all who wish to marry — 
For the Brave and for the Fair ; 

Come buy, and do not tarry. 

For the old and for the young, 

Who are in lone condition ; 
Whose wedding-bells have never rung, 

Here now is competition. 

Then Lads and Lassies heed my call, 

Approach, and do not tarry ! 
If ye are in sly Cupid's thrall. 

Sure, now's the time to marry. 

Come buy, come buy ! do not delay, 

Time, fast away is stealing ; 
And I can here no longer stay, 

If vainly I'm appealing. 



268 

A TEMPERANCE SOKG, 

Written by request of the Musical Editor oj the ^^ Lady^s Book.' 

Let's away to the spring, the clear cold spring, 

With its water so pure and so bright ! 
Where early at morn, the lark plumes her wing, 

Ere she soars to the regions of light : 
Flutt'ring away so cheerily ! 
Trilling her notes so merrily 

As she soars to the regions of light. 

To the spring — to the spring! — the limpid spring. 

Where the diamond-like bubbles arise, 
As sparkling and bright as a jewelled ring. 

And twinkling like stars in the skies. 
Commingling, O so cheerily ! 
Then scatt'ring away so merrily ! 

And twinkling like stars in the skies. 

Our thirst let us quench at the healthful spring, 

'Tis refreshing as nectar divine ! 
No more of the grape's ruddy juice we'll sing, 

Nor partake of its treacherous wine. 
We quaff it off so cheerily ! 
And then repent so wearily ! 

Of drinking the treacherous wine. 

Then hurrah for the spring, the cooling spring I 

And farewell to the brain-heating bowl ! 
Its madd'ning contents to the dust we'll fling, 

And our names on the Pledge we'll erirol. 
When ** Sons of Temperance," cheerily 
We'll form our ranks, and merrily 

-Hoist her flag, wliich our names shall ewrul. 



p 



269 



VERSES WRITTEN BY REQUEST FOR 

A MAY-DAY COROIVATION. 

Scene ; A garden-A group of young girls surrounding a rustic 
throne, upon which one is seated- Another advances, holding a 
^ 7wsegay and a crown of flowers, and addresses her as follows : 

WeVe chosen thee our Queen of May, 

This golden smiHng happy day I 

And with these flowers, bright and gay. 

Some of thy virtues will portray. 

This Lily with its snowy bell, 
Secluded in its leafy dell, 
(Like ancient hermit in his cell,) 
Of thy modesty doth tell. 

This little Violet so blue, 
This fragrant rose of beauteous hue, 
Still wet with pearly drops of dew, 
Humility and sweetness shew. 

And by this sprig of Box so green, 
And this of Myrtle smooth and sheen, 
And rich in blossoms, — may be seen. 
Thy constancy and truth, fair Queen, 

Upon this bud, now cast thine eyes, 
'Tis a Camelia, and implies, 
That in thy heart soft pity lies. 
That tender link in human ties. 

Thus having by these emblems shewn. 

The gentle virtues, one by one ; 

Which to all present be it known, (looking round) 

Have thee entitled to this throne. 

We offer thee the flow'rs, (presenting them,) and now, 
Placing this crown upon thy brow, (putting on the wreath) 
Before thee with due homage bow, (bowing,) 
ALnd love and fealty avow. 
u 



270 

GUITAR SONG. 

Awake those notes again ! 
Repeat that silvery strain : 
They tell of pleasure past, 
Of joys that did not last, 
Withered by grief's cold blast. 

Then strike the light Guitar ! 

Ah, strike the light Guitar ! 

As evening's shadows fall, 
Let melody recall 
Those hours of pure delight, 
When all hfe's hopes were bright 
As stars that gem the night. 

Then strike the light Guitar ! 

Ah, strike the light Guitar ! 

While each soft cadence flows, 
My spirit will repose 
And dream of that blest land. 
That distant, golden strand. 
Where home's dear tuiTcts stand. 

Then strike the hght Guitar ! 

Ah, sti'ike the light Guitar ! 

Tho' clouds of sorrow lower. 
Yet hath thy touch the power 
To calm this troubled breast, 
And soothe my soul to rest, 
So long by care opprest. 

Then strike the light Guitar ! 

Ah, strike the light Guitar I 



271 

THE POLKA SONG. 

Come, hie we to the Linden-tree, 
That stands upon the verdant lea ; 
It is the place for mirth and glee — 
The place for yon, dear ! and for me. 

Then haste we to the Linden-tree, 
That pleasant spot upon the lea ; 
And there we'll dance so merrily 
Beneath the Linden- tree. 

When tired, we'll seek the cooling shade, 
Fanned by the zephyrs of the glade; 
A tender youth and gentle maid. 
In nature's rarest charms arrayed. 

Then haste we, &c» 

I'll tell thee, too, a tale of love. 
Pure as the azure skies above, 
>Soft as the cooings of the dove 
Which nestles in the neighb'ring grove. 
Then haste we, &:c. 



CANZONET. 

Though she loves another dearly. 
And no kindness shews to me, 

Yet my heart is her's sincerely, 
Never more can it be free ! 

Oft to her my thoughts are straying, 
Yet she seldom thinks of me ; 

Cease, fond heart, thyself betraying, 
Let her not thine anguish see. 

Could I win her love, what pleasure 
Might be mine forever more ! 

It would prove to me a treasure, 
Richer thnn Golconda^s store ! 



272 

The Page's Serenade of Mary, Ctueeii of Scot«r. 

The brightest stars now gem the sky, 

And moon-beams ghtter on the lake ; 
Save where Loch-Levin's turrets high, 

A dark and lengthened shadow make. 
Pvefreshing odors scent the air, 

Exhaling from some mossy dell, 
Where blossom flow Vets wild and fair. 

And grows the lovely Scotch bhie-bell. 

Sweet Queen, awake? 

^olian music floats along. 

In plaintive murmurs on the gale ; 
. As if the zephyrs in their song. 

Thy sad captivity bewail. 
The scene is beautiful to view ! 

The murmured music sweet to hear f 
Then rise, fair Queen ! one follower true^ 
Thy faithful minstrel, lingers near. 

Fair Queen, arise. 

Without thy presence, what to me 

Are nature's charms, or music's voice T 
With thine united they must be, 

To make this pensive heart rejoice. 
Ah! then, sweet sov'reign ! from thy tower,. 

Look out upon the skies and earth ; 
And add to theirs, thy beauty's power, 

To call the minstrel's raptures forth ! 

Sweet Queen, arise! 



273 

CHARADES. 

No. 1. 
My first you'll find is either tasteless, bitter, sour or sweet. 
And we are told it flourished once in Eden's fair retreat, 
My second is of divers kinds, and found all over earth ; 
'Tis smooth, 'tis rough, 'tis tall, 'tis short, and to my first gave birth. 
My whole is common to this soil ; 
It seldom needs the laborer's toil, 
And often is the school-boy's spoil. 

No. 2. 
Pronounce my first, and 'twill appear 
That I'm a twelfth part of the year ; 
And mine the pleasant task to bring 
The choicest fruits and flowers of Spring. 
My second is a title given 
To young or old — a boon from Heaven, 
Which yet, if wicked or perverse, 
May prove no blessing, but a curse. 
My whole denotes a man of trade, 
And one of secret art, 'tis said, 
Belonging to a Brotherhood 
Known in the world to do much good. 

No. 3. 
My first will make a coward tremble, 
My next will beaux and belles assemble, 
My whole does mischief far and near, 
And causes, oft, affliction's tear. 

No. 4. 
My first is Heaven born, 
My second a child of earth. 
My whole a fragile form. 
Which dies soon after birth. 

No. 5. 
My first o^er earth soft radiance diffusing, 
Inclines thi» Heaven-bom mind to Heavenly mufing ; 



271 

And erst it was an idol, at whose shrine 
The Heathen bowed in Egypt's glowing clime. 
My second swiftly darts from pole to pole, 
Bright to the eye as Hope is to the soul ! 
My whole embellishes, with magic power, 
A peasant's cottage or a monarch's tower ! 

Kg. 6. 
My first and second and whole are frail ! 
From alU the same sweet odors exhale, 
Which often perfume the summer gale ; 
Nor are tints more beauteous seen in Heaven, 
When Phoebus brightly sinks at even', 
Than those kind Nature to each has given. 

No. 7. 
My first is seen in rain and hail — 
In ocean, mountain, plain and vale ; 
If books you read or letters write, 
In every page it meets your sight. 
My second rears a verdant crest, 
And wears a glossy, silken vest — 
Is oft an epicurean treat, 
And yet a torture most complete. 
My whole sometimes in air is found ; 
Anon, one spies it on the ground : 
*Tis of a giant race, yet small — 
Like pride it towers, then has its fall. 

No. 8. 
My first is used in solemn rites, 
And many a happy pair unites. 
My second forms the miser's care, 
And oft, 'tis said, has won the fair. 
My first and second, when combined, 
A gallant soldier brings to mind, 
AVho bravely fought, then life did yield, 
On De la Palma's battle field ; 
Whose loss Columbia deplored, 
Whose deeds are in her annals stored .^ 



276 



Ans^vers to tlie Cliarades and to tfaie Kuignia. 



No. 


1.- 


— Apple-tree. 


No. 


5.- 


— Moon-light 


No. 


2.- 


— Ma-son. 


No. 


6.- 


— Rose-bud. 


No. 


3.- 


— Cannon-ball. 


No. 


7.- 


— A -corn. 


No. 


4.- 


—Star-flower. 


No. 


8.- 


—Ring-gold. 



Enigma. — The letter A. 



"Enteted, according to the Act of Congress, by the Author, on the irth of May, 186S, m th« Cl»rk'» offi«« o( 
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